Darkness I Became
by Demolition.Lover.14
Summary: Sherlock Holmes was dead, but Elspeth didn't go down without a fight. Unhealthy relationships form as the girl who fought so hard for justice finds herself treading the fine line between good and bad.
1. Chapter 1

_This fic is yet another one of my AUs of an AU (the other being The Final Sacrifice). This is an AU end of my fic, The Family Business, in which Sherlock Holmes has a daughter, Elspeth. This fic picks up after the events of chapter 46, so any events following that do not occur in this AU. I highly recommend reading The Family Business first in order to understand certain events._

_Though the focus of this fic will be the relationship between Jim Moriarty and Elspeth Holmes, it's a slow, gradual development with lots of character development and barriers to get past for both characters; other characters will be introduced as the fic goes on, and I intend on taking this through to my reimagining of series 3. I will take the time to build a realistic, genuine connection between Jim and Ellie, and the themes of this fic will not be taken lightly; if you can put your trust in me not to mess this up, I hopefully will not disappoint you. If you want to ask any questions or see pictures of Ellie (or how I envision her) check out my tumblr – the link is on my profile._

_Please read and review, let me know what you think! I love hearing from my reviewers! Please bear with me in regards to updates though as Uni has begun and they won't be as frequent as we would all like. But if you can give me the time, I'll make the updates as awesome as I can! _

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><p><em><strong>1.<strong>_

The name Elspeth Holmes became rather infamous in the first month after Sherlock's death.

Following his suicide, there were rumours – fuelled mostly by the newspapers – that he was a fake, that Jim Moriarty was an actor hired by the detective and most of the crimes he'd 'solved' were staged to make him famous. Kitty Riley wrote most of the articles. She stopped abruptly when her flat was broken into and her possessions were completely destroyed. The police had yet to find Elspeth.

Weeks had passed since she broke into Kitty's flat, and Elspeth put the time to good use, bringing down Moriarty's criminal network. Elspeth Holmes may have been tiny, but not to be underestimated. That was the biggest mistake. She didn't pay any attention to the laws of society or her conscience, as long as it meant that every single one of the bastards that helped kill her father was taken down or put in prison.

John Watson had no idea, of course. Elspeth had left 221B just a day after Sherlock died with a rucksack on her shoulders and determination in her eyes.

Her nose was bleeding. Elspeth noticed it in the way one noticed the colour of another person's eyes; it was routine, dull. Insignificant. Wiping the blood away with the back of her sleeve, she barely winced when she nudged her nose, pain shooting through it as a response. When she wasn't angry – she was always so _angry_ – Elspeth was numb. At least she felt something then. Most of the time, Elspeth used her anger to hurt others so then she wouldn't be the only one in pain. She had been so horrible to John before she left.

Silently, Elspeth picked up the phone that had fallen on the ground during the fight. Her opponent – a man not much older than herself, dark haired and light eyed – was handcuffed to the railing, groaning. He had a large cut on his forehead.

"You crazy bitch," he moaned, his voice hoarse. Elspeth looked up from the phone, her dry lips twitching into the slightest of smiles.

"Careful," she said. Her voice was lower than normal, her tone hard. "You'll hurt my feelings."

"You broke my arm," the man spat at her incredulously.

"Sprained it," Elspeth corrected distractedly, her fingers flying across the keypad of the phone. She texted Lestrade the address of the warehouse, as well as the injuries the man had sustained, then threw the phone far out of reach. "I know how to sprain people."

"It's true what they say, ain't it?" the man asked her. His voice trembled. Elspeth turned to him then, her head tilted to the side and her eyebrows raised with mock interest. "You – you're trying to stop him . . . Moriarty."

Elspeth gazed at him for a long time, not blinking. Her eyes – not quite brown, not quite green, but somewhere right in the middle – were detached, blank, like she wasn't really in the room. It was chilling just how _empty_ she was.

"Not trying," she finally said. "Succeeding."

With a final, insincere smirk, she held the key up and dropped it on the ground so it was inches out of his reach, just to taunt him. Elspeth didn't look back as she strode out of the empty warehouse. Her footsteps echoed with every step she took.

Pulling her hood up and stuffing her bloody hands into her pockets, Elspeth strolled down the street at a normal pace, joining a rather drunken group of students as they stumbled past her. None of them noticed her tag along. Her bag bumped against her hip while she walked. She used the students as cover for a few streets, then broke away and turned the corner, finding a large empty wall that she knew a lot of people would walk past. Checking no one was around, Elspeth opened her bag and took out the first spray can.

She had reeked her revenge on Kitty Riley but ruining people's belongings didn't convince people that Sherlock wasn't a fraud, so Elspeth would spend her evenings spray painting – walls, benches, pavements . . . if the surface was big enough, Elspeth would deface it. She wasn't alone. A lot of Sherlock's homeless network were willing to help her as well.

The messages were all the same. **I BELIEVE IN SHERLOCK HOLMES. MORIARTY WAS REAL**. Even if people didn't agree, at least they paid attention to it. That was all Elspeth could ask for.

"What are you doing?" an unfamiliar voice – male, with a smoking habit – demanded, and Elspeth barely had enough time to turn around before something hit her in the face.

"_Ah_!" Oh god, she felt like they were on fire, like they were going to melt out of their sockets. Dropping the can, Elspeth squeezed her eyes shut and dug the heels of her hands into them as she stumbled backwards blindly, hitting the wall. "What did you do, you son of a bitch?" she wailed. She couldn't _see_ – she couldn't _breathe _–

A sharp slap across her face made Elspeth stumble again, tripping over her own feet and tumbling to the floor. Her head pounded against the pavement. She groaned.

Through her blurred vision, Elspeth could see the figure of a man crouch by her. He reached into his pocket, soaking a rag with something before pressing it to her mouth, the fabric rough and scratchy against her skin. She struggled for a few seconds, trying to scream. The sounds were muffled, her mind became fuzzy, her limps weakened with every move she made. Finally, Elspeth allowed her eyes to slide shut and succumbed to the darkness.

She must've been unconscious for a few hours because when Elspeth opened her eyes again, the first thing she saw was the light of sunrise streaming in through the window.

Groaning, Elspeth squeezed her stinging eyes shut for a moment, trying to get rid of the burning sensation, and pinched the bridge of her nose. She opened her eyes again and waited for her blurry vision to clear so she could take in her surroundings.

It was an office. Elspeth was sprawled out across a leather sofa pushed against the wall. She pushed herself up slowly because every movement sent her head spinning, then looked around closely. It was fairly bare; a desk stood in front of the windows, an office chair on one side and two chairs on the other. There were a couple of shelves with books on them – Elspeth was too far to read the spines – and a filing cabinet. There was even a small table with cups and a kettle lined up on it. It was a boring, nondescript office that lacked any personal touch at all. It made it nearly impossible to work out who it belonged to.

Remembering the previous night's events, Elspeth reached out. She touched her nose gingerly first, wiping away the dried blood that had gathered underneath, and then her cheek. It was still warm and tender. She didn't flinch. There was a small bump forming on her head from where it had hit the table as well.

Elspeth swung her legs off the sofa, lowering her head into her hands. She cursed under her breath. "Goddammit," she hissed angrily. "Stupid, stupid, _stupid_."

She had spent weeks moving about, never staying in one hotel for more than week, so she wouldn't get caught. Elspeth scowled and her head sunk onto her knees, her hands clutching her hair. She was such a goddamn _idiot._

There was a click as the door was unlocked, Elspeth sitting up immediately. She looked across the office and into the dark eyes she thought she would never have to see again.

Jim Moriarty had disappeared. Sherlock had told her and John that he made Moriarty up because he wanted to be a hero. One night, when Elspeth had a member of his organisation pinned up against the wall with a broken nose, she was told that Moriarty was dead. No one had heard anything from him for ages.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Moriarty teased, strolling forwards. A man followed him in, shutting the door behind them and leaning against it with his arms folded across his chest, watching Elspeth like a hawk. She barely noticed, unable to tear her eyes from Moriarty. Elspeth felt like she might be sick, or faint, or worse, _cry_. He turned his back on her for a moment to boil the kettle and when he faced Elspeth, she was conscious to not show her fear. She hid behind a mask as she had done for weeks. "I hear you've been very busy, Ellie."

Elspeth's composure cracked slightly. She smirked. "Yeah."

Moriarty's eyebrows rose with interest. He'd scoffed at the rumours when they began but when his employees started to get arrested, he realised that Elspeth really was trying to stop him.

"I'm impressed," Moriarty told her. Elspeth gazed back at him passively. She had changed a lot over the month; her eyes held a strange sort of blankness, like they were glazed over, and her lips were constantly pressed into a hard line. Sherlock's death had aged her. Elspeth was still pretty, but in a sharp way, the shadows under her eyes deep and her lips pale. "Not even Sherlock could bring down as many people as you have."

Elspeth's lips twitched when Moriarty said Sherlock's name, her head turning to the side slightly. It was like she was supressing the urge to scream or cry. It was the first proper emotion she had shown since she'd laid eyes on Moriarty.

"Though," he said. "You can't be allowed to continue." He shook his head. "You just can't."

Elspeth stiffened when Moriarty sat down on the sofa next to her, recoiling slightly even though there was a large gap between them. He propped his feet up on the coffee table in front of them and stretched one of his arms across the back of the sofa casually, turning to look at Elspeth.

"So." Moriarty dragged the word out for a few seconds. "What are we going to do with you?"

"He's got a gun in his pocket," Elspeth said dryly, nodding at the man by the door. "I'm sure he could shoot me from there if he tried hard enough."

"Seb doesn't have to try, he's a marksman. You've met him before."

Her eyes resting on Sebastian, Elspeth felt her brow crease slightly when she frowned at him. Then she realised; he must've been the one to shoot her in the shoulder. She'd had surgery to have the bullet removed. The scar was hideous.

Sometimes, when stripping down to get changed or jump in the shower, Elspeth would pause and look at the scar, remembering how Moriarty had toyed with her. Her friends thought it was kind of awesome that Elspeth had a gunshot wound, but Elspeth knew she'd probably never wear a tank top again.

"Maybe this time he'll actually kill me," Elspeth deadpanned, her eyes meeting Moriarty's. Sebastian didn't bother hiding his grin.

"Kill you?" Moriarty repeated. He frowned and shook his head, tutting. "Don't be silly, I don't want to kill you."

"What are you going to do to me then?"

Moriarty tilted his head to the side, thoughtful. He knew exactly what he was going to do but it was so much_ fun_ to make Elspeth squirm.

"Well," he said, dragging the sound out. "I can't let you go, we both know that." Moriarty pressed his lips together, pouting while Elspeth watched him with a neutral expression. Suddenly, Moriarty slapped his hand against the sofa. "Tiger, wasn't I just talking about getting a live-in?"

A live-in ordinary person. He had mentioned it to Sherlock. Elspeth was never told about the conversation.

"Yeah," Sebastian said, leaning against the door and holding his phone in one hand. The other rested by his side. His gun was tucked into his belt.

Moriarty turned his chilling grin on Elspeth. "Say hello to my new lodger," he announced.

"You're not serious," Elspeth said indignantly. Her calm exterior had faded, replaced with confusion and fear, even though she tried to hide the latter. She shook her head with disbelief and pressed her lips together. Moriarty gave her a disapproving frown.

"Oh darling, I never joke about these sort of things. Seb'll escort you home, I'll get take away. Do you like Chinese?"

Elspeth continued to shake her head, unable to comprehend what had just happened, but she didn't get a chance to protest before Sebastian grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet, dragging her back across the room. She stumbled and tripped, no longer consumed with her anger. Elspeth was scared. She was terrified.

"Let me go," Elspeth pleaded when Sebastian pulled her towards the car waiting outside for them. He opened the back door. "Please, let me go," she tried again. Sebastian's grip loosened momentarily as he pushed her towards the open door and Elspeth took the opportunity to rip her arm away, whirling away to run. She didn't care if he shot her; anything was better than being forced to live with Jim Moriarty.

She barely ran two steps before Sebastian's strong hands grabbed her from behind, pinning her to the car, stopping her from struggling.

"Look," he said to her. "Believe it or not, I don't like this anymore than you do but, trust me, it's best to just go along with whatever he says."

Elspeth gazed back up at Sebastian for a few seconds, then went limp in his hands and allowed him to guide her into the backseat of the car. She didn't try to run again. Not in the few seconds she had before he got into the driver's seat, not when he unlocked the car doors after pulling up in the car park, not even when he turned his back on her so he could unlock the front door of the penthouse. Of course Jim Moriarty would own a freakin' penthouse, she thought with a scoff.

It was nice. Large, spacious . . . two plush, soft looking sofas were set out in front of the flat screen TV, the living room separated from the shiny kitchen by a counter. Sebastian pointed down the corridor, telling her it led to the bedrooms and the bathroom she and Moriarty were going to have to share. That made Elspeth shudder. She sincerely hoped the rooms had locks.

"Come here," Sebastian ordered from the kitchen, holding a roll of bandages in one hand. Elspeth glared back at him suspiciously. "Your hand is going to be really sore if you don't let me do this," he warned. Glancing down, Elspeth realised her knuckles were covered in dry blood; she must've grazed them during her fight. Slowly, uncertainly, she walked forwards and let Sebastian take her wrist, holding it in a firm but gentle grip as he started to dab at her knuckles with antiseptic.

"Soak a flannel in cold water and put it over your eyes. It'll help with any stinging," Sebastian told her. It only took him a minute to wrap her hand. "Try not to aggravate that either."

"How would I aggravate it?" Elspeth asked sourly, pulling away. Sebastian smirked. He was rather nice looking, Elspeth realised.

"Oh you know, flex your fingers, punch Jim in the face." He was trying to make her smile but it didn't work. Sebastian sighed. "Don't say I didn't warn you," he muttered, walking past her. The door clicked shut a few seconds later and Elspeth was left standing in the kitchen, completely and utterly alone.

_Breathe_, Elspeth reminded herself. _Just . . . keep breathing._

Curious, she began to explore the kitchen. There was a lot of cooking equipment, far more knives and pans than they'd had at 221B, and the cupboards were full of food. When Elspeth opened the fridge and microwave, there weren't any body parts hidden inside. For some reason it made her sad.

Wandering down the corridor with a bottle of water in one hand, Elspeth opened the first door she walked past. It was Moriarty's room. The bed was unmade and on the table beside it were a couple of dog eared books stacked into a neat pile, an alarm clock perched on top of it. The room was otherwise quite tidy, Elspeth noticed as she crossed it, picking up the first book on the pile. It was a detective novel. Scoffing, Elspeth threw it back down.

Unable to stay there for too long – it felt strangely intimate, being in Moriarty's bedroom – Elspeth shut the door behind her and opened the next one, guessing it was the spare bedroom.

"Oh my God," she whispered.

The room was the same size as Moriarty's, the walls clean and white, but that wasn't what surprised Elspeth. There were bags and boxes piled up on the bed. From the doorway, Elspeth could see one of her sketchbooks poking out from a box.

Staggering forwards, Elspeth went through the contents of the nearest box – her sketchbooks, all of her books, and various other possessions were packed away. She unzipped the duffle bag next to it, tipping it over so that all of her clothes fell on the floor in a pile by her feet. Everything was there, all the clothes that were tucked away into her wardrobe in 221B. Her t-shirts, the pair of jeans that were so paint stained that they were beyond repair, even that stupid sparkly skirt she'd brought on a whim and only wore once.

When Elspeth left, she'd left most of the stuff behind. Now, somehow, Moriarty had brought it all to his penthouse for her . . . her mind was so overwhelmed that she didn't grasp the implications of his actions.

Slowly, mechanically, Elspeth started to pack her things away. She put her clothes in the wardrobe, slinging her favourite jumper on the bed like she always had at home, and left all her pairs of shoes lined up so she could see them. She arranged her books and sketchbooks on the shelves, left all her paints out on the dressing table, and stuffed the bags and boxes under her bed. When she was done, she sat down on the bed.

Everything from her room at 221B had been packed away, taken from her home and brought to Moriarty's penthouse. All before she'd arrived. That meant –

"He had this planned," Elspeth said to herself, realisation dawning on her. She squeezed her eyes shut and swore loudly then. Moriarty had planned this. The thought made her shudder, feel sick, want to cry.

Kicking her boots off, Elspeth laid down on the bed and curled up, hugging the jumper. It smelled like 221B. She cried then. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she curled up even more, bringing her knees up to her chest so she was absolutely tiny, her whole body trembling while she sobbed loudly. She didn't know when Moriarty would come back or if he would hear her crying, but she couldn't give a damn at that point. She cried for hours, and when she finally fell asleep, she slept with tears on her cheeks.

* * *

><p>"Honey, I'm home!"<p>

Sebastian rolled his eyes at his boss, closing the door behind him and carrying the take away through to the kitchen. The last he had seen of the girl was earlier that day, when he'd left her trembling in the middle of the apartment. He'd told Moriarty about their brief conversation. Moriarty found it hilarious.

When he didn't receive a response, Moriarty frowned. "Rude," he muttered to himself. "Seb, where is she?"

"Probably hiding in her room," Sebastian said, shrugging. He picked up a spring roll and bit into it. "Wouldn't blame her if she was."

"Why would she hide from little old me?" Moriarty scoffed. "Ellie," he sung, striding down the corridor. He stopped at her room, surprised to see the door wide open. If it had been shut, he would've left her alone, but an open door was an invitation. Moriarty took a step into the room, then paused again. Elspeth was asleep.

She had curled up into a ball on top of the sheets, with her arms wrapped around a jumper that she held to her chest, and even though Elspeth was sleeping, she looked far from peaceful. Moriarty could see the tears that lingered on her cheeks, watching her frown and tighten her arms around the jumper while she dreamed, a soft whimper escaping her lips. She was having a nightmare.

"Should we wake her?" Moriarty asked Sebastian when he joined him in Elspeth's room. Sebastian watched her momentarily, then shook his head.

"Let her sleep. We'll leave some food by the microwave for her to warm up if she wants it."

Sebastian left the room immediately but Moriarty lingered for a moment longer, his eyes on Elspeth. Her face scrunched up, her fists clenching, and he briefly wondered what she was dreaming about. At that moment, Elspeth was so unaware and vulnerable.

Moriarty only left the bedroom when Sebastian appeared in the doorway again, threatening to eat all the spring rolls if Moriarty didn't hurry up. He shut the door when he left.

"Why are you being so nice?" Moriarty asked Sebastian suspiciously. The first time the two men had met, Sebastian had someone pinned against the wall by their throat, threatening to kill them and do things that probably weren't even anatomically possible with the corpse, using a lot of colourful language and leaving very little to the imagination.

Sebastian shrugged. "I feel sorry for her, I guess."

"_Why_?"

"Dunno," Sebastian said with another shrug. "Just do."

* * *

><p>Elspeth's eyes snapped open suddenly, disorientated and fighting the panic attack threatening to blossom. She hadn't had just one nightmare, but a combination of several. Sherlock falling, Moriarty goading and laughing, John and Mrs Hudson turning their backs on her, all those men and women she'd turned into the police chasing her down a dark alley, hands grabbing her and pulling her and groping her . . .<p>

She shuddered. Throwing the jumper that was tangled around her off, Elspeth ran her hands through her hair and pushed it out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ears. She fought back the tears in her eyes and tried to steady her rapid breathing. Elspeth had the momentary idea of calling out to Sherlock before remembering. That was the worst part. Remembering.

Her stomach felt uncomfortably empty. Elspeth thought back to that morning; hadn't Moriarty promised a take away? It was highly unlikely he would've left her any, but she reasoned that there had to be _something_ in that giant kitchen she could snack on.

Elspeth opened the door slowly, gingerly. Peering out, she looked down the corridor for any obvious signs that the living room or kitchen was already occupied. All the lights were off. There was no sound.

Even so, Elspeth edged along slowly, ready to run back to the bedroom if she had to. She let out a small sigh of relief when she saw that both rooms were empty.

Wandering through to the kitchen, Elspeth was surprised to see a plate of food on the counter by the microwave, waiting for her. As Sebastian had suggested, the two men had left her a portion of everything in case she wanted it. Elspeth didn't know that, of course, and stuck the plate into the microwave to warm the food up. She was quick to open the door before the loud beeping could travel through the apartment and wake Moriarty up.

If someone had told Elspeth Holmes that she would one day end up sitting on Moriarty's kitchen floor, eating left over Chinese food in the middle of the night, she would've suggested that they get their heads checked.

Then again, if someone had told Elspeth that her father would die and she would leave home to bring down every single person involved in the organisation that killed him, she would've told them where to go. Maybe not so politely though. This time last year, Elspeth wouldn't have recognised the person she had become; hard, cold, wrathful. The thought put her off her food and she slowly lowered the fork onto the half empty plate, wondering what on earth she was doing. She was eating left over Chinese food in Jim Moriarty's kitchen when she could be ringing the police, telling where they were –

But she didn't know where they were. She'd panicked so much about being taken to his place that she hadn't been paying attention.

Elspeth scowled, running a hand down her face. "_Idiot_," she hissed to herself.

She didn't bother trying to open the door. Elspeth could tell it was locked; Moriarty wasn't stupid enough to leave it otherwise, especially while he was asleep. Elspeth picked her fork up again.

"Whatcha doing?" Moriarty asked. The sound of his voice made Elspeth jump, her eyes wider than those of a deer in the headlight, and it didn't go unnoticed by him.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Elspeth muttered. She didn't look up.

Moriarty smirked, leaning against the counter with one ankle crossed over the other. Elspeth refused to look up even though she could feel his eyes watching every move she made.

"There's sofas, you know," he said casually. "And a dining table. You don't have to sit on the floor."

Elspeth snorted. "Since when were you so considerate?"

"I've always been considerate." Moriarty sounded almost offended. Elspeth met his eyes reluctantly, her gaze wary and guarded, but Moriarty's expression was so ridiculous that she had to look away again before it made her smile. "I left food for you, gave you your own room, I even brought all your stuff here for you." Moriarty's grin turned sly. "I like the sparkly skirt. Very sexy."

Even in the dark Elspeth's blush was obvious. She didn't say anything.

Moriarty watched her as she ate. He wasn't like Sherlock, he didn't analyse every move someone made, but there was something fascinating about Elspeth. She acted like he wasn't there – Moriarty caught her sneaking sideways glances at him though – and ate slowly, savouring every mouthful. Elspeth honestly couldn't remember the last time she'd had a decent meal.

When she finished, Elspeth stared down at her empty plate for a second. At home she would've just left it on the side but Moriarty's apartment was so _clean_ . . .

A pale hand in front of her made her blink. A second later, Elspeth handed Moriarty the plate, watching as he opened the dishwasher. It was odd seeing him behave so domestically. Then again, as much as Elspeth hated to acknowledge it, Moriarty was human. She continued to watch him as he started to make himself a coffee.

Elspeth frowned. "What time is it?"

"Six," Moriarty said. That was when Elspeth realised he was fully dressed and behind her, light was streaming in from behind the blinds. She'd been asleep all night. That was the longest Elspeth had slept all month. "Sofa's pretty comfy, you know," he added.

Elspeth didn't reply. Without warning, a small sob came from the back of her throat and she curled her knees up to her chest, burying her face into them as she cried silently.

Moriarty glanced over at her, halfway through pouring his coffee, and frowned. He hadn't been expecting _that_.

"Fine, don't use the sofa," he muttered under his breath. He was confused. Sipping his piping hot coffee, Moriarty paused and watched Elspeth for a few seconds, but she was so uninteresting that he just walked past her and turned on the TV to block out the sounds of her pathetic whining. He still had a little time before he had to leave. Elspeth didn't know what she was expecting. Jim Moriarty was hardly the type to sit down and comfort her.

The thought made her sob again. What Elspeth needed the most was comfort.

She regretted leaving 221B, she hated herself for saying all those horrid things to John, she wished she'd never started bringing down Moriarty's network . . . Elspeth didn't even know if she'd made a significant impact; all Elspeth had done was got into a few fights, sent Lestrade and Mycroft a few texts. They'd probably be of more use because both of them had the facilities for a proper interrogation, unlike Elspeth. She was just a teenager that everyone underestimated.

But no matter how many people she beat up, or had Lestrade arrest, or Mycroft interrogated, it was never going to bring Sherlock back. And that just made her cry even harder.

Moriarty frowned unhappily when he lowered the volume slightly, listening to Elspeth sob and sniffle. She was so pathetic. What had happened to that girl – the one who argued and yelled and stood up to him? That was the Elspeth he liked.

Finishing his coffee – first thing in the morning was the only time Jim Moriarty drank coffee because it gave him the caffeine boost he needed to get through the day – he rose to his feet and strolled through to the kitchen, glancing down at Elspeth once more. She wasn't crying so much, which was a huge relief. Moriarty had no idea how to deal with a crying girl.

"Are you just going to sit there all day?" Moriarty asked her, his voice light, teasing. Elspeth gritted her teeth.

"What else do you expect me to do?"

_That_ made Moriarty smirk. "Anything you want," he said. Elspeth lifted her head a little. "Except leave, obviously. You can't do that."

"So I'm just a prisoner," Elspeth said dryly. She looked at Moriarty. Her eyes were bloodshot and her cheeks were pink, and there were remnants of tears still clinging to her long eyelashes. Moriarty found himself supressing the sudden urge to just reach out and brush them away for her. She was so angry and bitter, and Moriarty swore that he had never seen anything so beautiful.

"_Duh_," he said, as if it was so obvious. Elspeth glowered at him.

"You're sick."

"And you're adorable," Moriarty told her.

"I didn't mean it as a compliment."

Moriarty's smirk grew but Elspeth didn't smile back, just continued to glare up at him. Still smirking, he took a few steps forwards and offered his hand out to her.

Elspeth stared at it for a second. He was trying to help her up, she knew, but the last thing that Elspeth wanted to do was touch him. But her legs felt so unsteady that Elspeth was certain she'd fall over if she didn't have assistance, so she reluctantly put her hand in Moriarty's. He was deceptively strong, lifting her to her feet with little effort. His hand was warm. Elspeth dropped it immediately.

"Seb'll be checking in on you later," Moriarty told her, strolling past Elspeth and towards the front door. "Don't do anything stupid now, will you? I would hate to have to punish you when things are going so beautifully."

"I'd like to see you try," Elspeth muttered under her breath. Moriarty smiled to himself.

"I'll miss you."

Elspeth's response was short and rude, and Moriarty couldn't help but laugh at it as he shut the door. She was very still as he left, listening to the sound of his footsteps fade away, and when they were completely gone, Elspeth let out a breath she hadn't realised she was holding. That hadn't been as awful as she expected.

"I'm going nuts," Elspeth moaned, running a hand down her face. She must be if she considered that encounter being halfway close to alright.

Sighing, she turned around, drummed her fingers against the counter and frowned. Elspeth glanced towards the TV and grimaced. She considered a shower but the thought of someone – either Moriarty or Sebastian – walking in while she was naked and wet was rather off putting.

"Guess it's back to my room then," Elspeth muttered to herself. Not that she minded, of course. Elspeth wandered back down the corridor, her head still spinning from her conversation with Moriarty. The man had terrorised her, plagued her nightmares, practically ruined her life – and Elspeth had just engaged in a semi-civil conversation, minus her swearing at him before he left, of course. Elspeth didn't know whether to feel proud or concerned for her mental health.

Shutting her bedroom door behind her, Elspeth laid down on her bed with a sudden exhaustion weighing her down. If Elspeth dreamed that afternoon, she didn't remember when she woke up.


	2. Chapter 2

_**2.**_

Somehow, a strange routine had emerged between Moriarty and Elspeth. He would leave early in the morning and only then would Elspeth leave her room to make breakfast, if she could stomach it. She didn't have anything most days. By the time Moriarty returned, she would be in her room with the door shut and Elspeth wouldn't emerge until late in the evening, when she would heat up whatever remains of the dinner Moriarty and Sebastian had left out for her. She would go back to her room by the time Moriarty woke up and the routine would begin yet again.

It was terribly dull, in his opinion, to have a houseguest and very rarely see them. Moriarty would catch glimpses of her occasionally; even Elspeth Holmes had to use the toilet sometimes. The most he had seen of her was the evening she walked into the kitchen, got herself a glass of water, and went straight back to her room – all without saying anything or looking at him.

Elspeth was rather content with the routine, which was why she was particularly pissed off when she awoke to the sensation of panic and world tipping, followed by a heavy thud as she landed on her bedroom floor.

"What the hell?" Elspeth demanded angrily, untangling herself from the duvet and pushing her hair out of her face so she could glower at Sebastian. "You couldn't have just woke me up like a _normal _person?"

Sebastian smirked back. "This was more fun." He ducked, the pillow Elspeth had thrown at him narrowly missing his head. "You've got good aim – fancy putting it to use?"

Elspeth eyed him suspiciously. "What are you talking about?"

"Get dressed and meet me in the living room. You'll see what I mean."

He shut the door behind him and Elspeth scowled, hauling herself up from the ground. Dragging a brush through her hair, she grabbed the first pair of jeans she could find and a clean t-shirt.

Sebastian grinned and threw a remote at Elspeth when she stormed into the living room. Catching it, she frowned back at him, still pissed off by her rude awakening.

"What's going on?"

"We," Sebastian said, turning the TV on. "are going to shoot some zombies." Elspeth watched as a game menu appeared on the screen, accompanied by heavy metal music, and Sebastian's grin widened. "Come on. I need back up."

Pursing her lips together, Elspeth almost considered going back to bed. But then Sebastian gave her that roguish grin of his over his shoulder and Elspeth couldn't help but grin back at him, sitting down next to him.

"I'm so going to beat your arse," she muttered.

"The point of the game is to work together, not –" Sebastian cut himself off when a grenade flew across the screen, his character exploding. He stared at Elspeth.

"Hey, look, it's raining you!" she cried, laughing. "Oh, sorry, you were saying something?"

"We're meant to work _together_," Sebastian said through gritted teeth. He was half impressed, half pissed off. Elspeth grinned back brightly and Sebastian restarted the game; he'd hoped that Elspeth could get rid of any pent up emotions by shooting at imaginary zombies. She got into it fairly quickly, taking to the game with ease. When she wasn't giving Sebastian scares by very nearly missing him – he was certain she was doing it on purpose – Elspeth was killing zombies left, right, and centre.

"On your left!" Sebastian shouted over the music. The pair of them were on the edge of the sofa, hitting their controllers with more force than necessary, screaming at each other even though they were sitting side by side.

"I got it!"

Both of them cheered loudly, Elspeth nearly falling off her seat in excitement. They yelled and jumped about on the sofa, hollering with excitement as they shot more and more zombies, and Elspeth found a lot of her anger seep away.

"_Grenade_!"

"How the heck did the zombies get a grenade –"

"– I'm going in –"

"Don't you _dare_ –"

"_No_!" Elspeth screamed as her character blew up, exploding across the screen. Sebastian laughed hysterically, glad to have finally got his revenge for her earlier actions, and Elspeth hit him with the nearest cushion. "You _arse_! You blew me up! You sacrificed me to the zombies, you dick!" She carried on pummelling him with the cushion and Sebastian kept laughing, catching her wrists so the pair ended up wrestling for a few seconds.

"Not so nice, is it?" Sebastian taunted, pushing Elspeth back. She giggled, sitting up, then seemed to realise who she was laughing and messing around with. When Sebastian felt her tense, he released her wrists and watched as Elspeth rose to her feet, leaving the controller behind when she walked away. "Oh, for God's sake," he muttered, following her. She'd locked herself in the bathroom.

Leaning against the door, Sebastian frowned, wondering how he should approach this. He was used to Moriarty's outburst and fits of anger, but that was nothing compared to the fear he felt of having to deal with an emotional girl.

"Uh . . ." Sebastian knocked uncertainly on the bathroom door. "Ellie, open the door."

"Go away," was Elspeth's muffled reply.

"I get it, y'know," Sebastian told her. "Life's pretty shit at the moment, isn't it? And the last place you want to be is here." He leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms, hoping that Elspeth's silence was a good sign. "And we're the last people you want to be with – don't worry," he added. "I'm not that offended. But when was the last time you had fun like that, huh?"

There was a moment of silence and Sebastian gave Elspeth a small, bracketed smile when she finally opened the door. She couldn't quite meet his eyes.

"You wanna come back and start a new game?"

"Give me a minute," Elspeth said quietly, wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.

It took her more than a minute to sort herself out; Elspeth cried for a bit longer, and when she stopped, she splashed cold water on her face and dabbed at her sore eyes with a wet flannel. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes were bloodshot, but it was better than crying, Elspeth supposed.

Sebastian didn't say anything when she emerged from the bathroom; he just glanced her way and gave her another smile before turning his attention to the TV in front of them. Elspeth decided that she was going to have to make the best of a bad situation, putting on a brave face and sitting back down on the sofa. Admittedly, she would've much preferred to be anywhere else than in Moriarty's apartment, but she was going to have to learn to deal with it.

"Alright, your challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to beat my high score of zombies killed."

Elspeth grinned back at Sebastian. "Challenge accepted."

The hours flew by, but Elspeth barely noticed, too focused on the game in front of her to care. If it could distract her for that long, then she was grateful Sebastian had ever suggested it, even if her awakening was a little unconventional. She decided she was going to have to get him back for that somehow.

When Moriarty returned home, he was very much surprised to find Sebastian and Elspeth bouncing around on the sofa, shouting at each other. Tucking his keys back into his pocket, he wandered through to the kitchen to make himself tea and watched the pair. He couldn't tear his eyes from Elspeth for a long time; her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were shining, a wide grin spread across her face as she fidgeted with excitement, squealing with laughter. It was the most emotion he'd seen her display since the first night she'd arrived and it was a refreshing sight. Finally realising she was being watched, Elspeth glanced over at Moriarty. Though her grin faltered when their eyes met, the light in her eyes didn't fade.

"Hey boss, when did you get back?" Sebastian called over, pausing the game so he could look over his shoulder at Moriarty.

"Just now. Don't stop on my account, I was quite enjoying the entertainment," Moriarty told them, his eyes fixed firmly on Elspeth. She squirmed a little and Moriarty could see that she was debating on whether or not to leave the room. He was pleasantly surprised when she stayed seated. Moriarty leaned against the kitchen counter. "Is this a private party or can anyone join?"

"Two player only, sorry. Unless you want to go against Ellie." Sebastian grinned at Elspeth. "She's alright."

"Better than alright," Elspeth retorted, smirking back at him. "I beat your high score, remember?"

"Yeah, only just – and there's still time for me to crush you."

Elspeth laughed softly. It was a nice sound; Moriarty's lips twisted into a small smirk when he heard it. Strolling forwards, he sat down on the other sofa and stretched out, his arms spread across the back of it. He still hadn't taken his eyes off Elspeth, something she was hyper aware of.

Moriarty had a strange way of looking at Elspeth, Sebastian noticed as he reached for his controller and restarted the game. He looked at her like he adored her, which was weird in itself because Jim Moriarty didn't _adore _anyone, but there was also a darkness in Moriarty's eyes that Sebastian knew all too well. Moriarty reminded him of a predator or a dangerous animal sometimes, and it was clear to Sebastian that Elspeth was his prey – though, he thought, if today was anything to go by, Moriarty was going to have a hard time fighting her. Elspeth could obviously stand up for herself.

Feeling Moriarty watch her every move, Elspeth sat back in her seat and curled up legs up to her chest as she concentrated on the game. Her brow furrowed with concentration and she bit down on her bottom lip to prevent anymore outbursts, trying not to look in Moriarty's direction. Both tasks were hard.

Sebastian and Elspeth played until he begrudgingly admitted defeat, realising that Elspeth wasn't going to give up anytime soon. Moriarty sniggered.

"Why don't you get us dinner, tiger?" he suggested. "I'm sure you two have worked up an appetite."

Elspeth's eyes flickered towards Moriarty, both of them aware that they would only have each other's company while Sebastian was out. He raised his eyebrows at her, smirking, and Elspeth looked away again in disgust, rolling her eyes.

Sebastian didn't seem to have a problem, fetching his jacket and striding out of the flat so Moriarty and Elspeth were left sitting in tense silence. She continued to ignore his gaze.

"When was the last time you had a shower?" Moriarty asked her so abruptly that Elspeth's head snapped round, her eyes meeting his a second time. She didn't answer, just frowned back at him, so he knew it had been a long time. He could already see that, but he didn't like to mention it. "Seb's going to be a while, so you can pop in and have one while we're waiting for dinner."

Anything had to be better than sitting with him, so Elspeth rose to her feet wordlessly and left the room. She made a quick stop to her bedroom, collecting her shampoo and scented body wash, and then darted across to the bathroom, unable to contain her excitement at having a hot shower. Elspeth had tried to avoid it for as long as possible because the prospect of Moriarty returning when she was wet, naked, and vulnerable really wasn't an inviting prospect.

Elspeth stopped when she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. The person that looked back was underweight and pale, with tired eyes and chapped lips and long, matted hair that definitely needed a wash. She looked away quickly.

"Towels," Elspeth said to herself, turning towards the rack. She took two because her hair was so long and thick that it warranted its own towel, setting them on the floor and within arm's reach from the shower. She stripped down methodically, throwing her clothes on the ground, and walked towards the shower – only to find that she had no idea how to turn it on.

The shower back home had been easy to use. Turn a knob to turn the water on and twist it until it was the right temperature. This one, however, had so many that Elspeth wasn't certain where she had to begin.

"I don't believe this," she whispered.

Elspeth wrapped a towel, which was so long that it brushed against her shin, around her and clutched it as tightly as she could before swallowing her pride and striding back down the corridor.

Moriarty was still on the sofa, channel surfing, so Elspeth cleared her throat.

"I don't know how the shower works," she told him in as confident voice she could muster.

Standing up, something flashed in Moriarty's eyes when he turned and saw Elspeth lingering in the doorway, clinging to her towel like her life depended on it. She was skinnier than he'd imagined.

Elspeth flinched when Moriarty put his hand on her bare shoulder, guiding her back towards the bathroom without a word. His hand was warmer than she'd expected and she was certain that he could feel her pulse pounding away, but he didn't say anything, not even when she trailed after him into the bathroom. Taking off his blazer so not to get it wet, Moriarty rolled up his sleeves and reached into the shower, turning it on. Elspeth made sure to watch him carefully.

"Come here," he said to her. Elspeth didn't move. "I'm not going to bite, Ellie, come here."

Her bare feet padded against the cool tiles of the bathroom and Elspeth felt her cheeks turning red.

Moriarty didn't touch her again as he pointed out the different handles in the shower and told her what they did, but they were very close. Too close for Elspeth's comfort. She took a small step back, held her towel closer, and tried to listen to what he was saying while ignoring the goose bumps that ran up her arms.

"Take your time," Moriarty told her with a final smirk in her direction. Elspeth glowered back at him.

The minute he was gone, Elspeth locked the door and dropped the towel. The water was blissfully warm and Elspeth stayed in the shower for a long time, not even moving when the water scorched her skin, because she wasn't just trying to scrub away the dirt. She was trying to clean away the feeling Moriarty's hand had left on her skin.

* * *

><p>"Is Sebastian back yet?"<p>

Moriarty glanced up from the TV – he wasn't really that focused on it but there was nothing better to do – and at Elspeth, who stood in the doorway again. She'd switched her jeans and t-shirt for what appeared to be her pyjama trousers and a thick jumper that swamped her, her damp hair hanging loosely past her shoulders.

"Nope. Poor dear gets a little bit lost sometimes."

Elspeth's lips twitched into a slight smile. After a few seconds of lingering, she walked forwards, past Moriarty, and sat down on the other sofa. She curled up in the corner, as far away from him as she could manage in such a small space. Though she appeared focused on the TV screen, her eyes were glazed over and she absent mindedly played with her hair, braiding the strands together.

Moriarty watched her silently. Elspeth seemed not to notice for a long time, but when she glimpsed his way, her eyes widened a little.

"Why are you staring at me?" she asked him quietly. Moriarty smirked back.

"Because you're beautiful."

Her cheeks turned pink and Elspeth raised her eyebrows a little, but she didn't say anything – just stared back at him in silence. Her lips were slightly parted, as if to speak, but then she shut them and looked away again. Yawning quietly, she nestled back into the soft cushions of the sofa and pulled her legs closer to her chest, making herself as small as possible while watching the telly.

She didn't look at Moriarty again.

He looked at her for a few minutes still, unable to look away for some reason. Maybe it was because Elspeth was everything that Moriarty wasn't; pure, innocent, _good_.

"Sebastian wants to know what pizza topping you want," Moriarty said to Elspeth, looking at his phone.

"Pepperoni," Elspeth said without hesitation. Her stomach growled at the thought of pizza.

Moriarty raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Hungry?"

Elspeth blushed. "A little," she admitted. For first time in a month, Elspeth was eating dinner every night – though very late at night so she could avoid Moriarty – and she found that she liked it. She hadn't eaten properly since Sherlock's death. The thought made her shiver.

"Cold?"

". . . a little," she repeated with another timid smile.

The moment was interrupted by the front door opening, Elspeth tearing her eyes from Moriarty's as she peered over the back of the sofa at Sebastian. She grinned – actually _grinned_ – when she saw the pizza boxes piled on the table, rising to her feet and crossing the room without a second thought. She was a bit surprised when Sebastian sat down at the table rather than take his pizza to the sofa; Elspeth, Sherlock, and John rarely ate at the table. Then again, Sherlock hardly ever ate anyway.

Sebastian pushed a box towards her. It took Elspeth a moment to remind herself that she had to eat slowly, not wolf it down like she wanted to. She didn't want to make herself ill.

While she nibbled on her pizza with a content smile, Moriarty and Sebastian exchanged a few words about business despite Elspeth's presence. She wasn't paying much attention, and even if she had been, who was there to tell? It wasn't like she could pop down to Scotland Yard and let Lestrade know what Moriarty was up to.

"Look, maybe we should talk about this in the kitchen," Sebastian suggested in a low voice, glancing at Elspeth. She looked up at him and blinked.

"What?"

"Sebastian's just getting paranoid," Moriarty said with a smirk in Sebastian's direction. The sniper glared back at him irritably.

"It's not paranoia, it's inevitable that someone's going to find out she's here –"

"And all the King's horses and all the King's men will come crashing through my door – oh." Moriarty paused, looked thoughtful for a second, then grinned so widely it bordered on manic. Elspeth leant back in her seat. "Wait, _I'm _the King, remember? This whole organisation is _mine_."

Sebastian scowled but didn't say anything, taking an overly aggressive bite of his pizza.

He was certain that if Moriarty didn't kill Elspeth, then someone else would. She'd done a lot of damage to their network, more than she imagined, and a lot of people were out for her blood. Sebastian really hoped that Moriarty had the common sense not to tell anyone.

But Moriarty and common sense did not go hand in hand.

Elspeth ate as much as she could, and when she felt completely full, she ate a bit more. At 221B, leftover food was stored in the fridge for another night. She didn't know what Moriarty would do with leftovers. When Sebastian finished, he muttered something about wanting an early night and stalked out of the apartment for the second time that evening. Elspeth looked at the empty boxes.

"Have you got a recycling bin?" she asked so abruptly that Moriarty blinked, frowning back at her.

"What?"

"A recycling bin," Elspeth repeated. "These –" she nudged one of the boxes with her hand. "– can be recycled rather than go in the bin, it's much better for the environment."

"There's one in the kitchen," Moriarty told her. Elspeth nodded, gathering the boxes in her arms with ease; she'd spent years carrying heavy textbooks and folders during college. "I never thought you were _that_ sort of girl."

Elspeth frowned at him over her shoulder. "_What_ sort of girl?"

"The sort who cares about recycling."

Unsure as to what had given Moriarty that impression, Elspeth continued to frown as she carried the boxes into the kitchen, unaware that he was watching the slight sway of her hips.

"I care about the environment," she said. "It just so happens that recycling is part of that."

She was having a conversation with Moriarty. An actual, civil conversation.

Standing up, Moriarty followed her through to the kitchen and leaned against the counter while Elspeth searched through the lower cupboards for the recycling bin. She was beginning to wonder if he was only kidding when she found it, disappointed to find it nearly empty.

"And I don't see how caring about recycling can be sorted in a category of female characteristics," Elspeth continued. She dropped the first box on the ground and stomped on it to flatten it. "It's a little sexist to suggest it is."

"God forbid you label me as _sexist_," Moriarty said with mock horror, holding a hand to his chest.

"Would you prefer it I labelled you a murdering, kidnapping psychopath?" Elspeth retorted without thinking. She didn't regret it.

There was fire in Elspeth's eyes and it made him smile. "We were getting along so nicely, Ellie, why'd you have to ruin the moment?"

"Moment?" she repeated. "There was never a _moment_."

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks," Moriarty teased, his eyes shining. Elspeth had to bite her tongue to stop herself from protesting again, knowing that it wouldn't get her anywhere, and instead settled for glowering at Moriarty while stuffing pizza boxes into the recycling bin. "Fancy watching a film?"

"Why would I want to spend more time than necessary with you?"

"Because we're going to be spending a _lot_ of time together," Moriarty said in that soft, sing song voice of his. It sent a shiver up Elspeth's spine. "So we might as well make the best of it."

There were so many implications in Moriarty's words and Elspeth didn't want to think about them, suppressing the thoughts that jumped into her mind as she stared back at him in silence, unsure of how to react. It was true. Moriarty obviously had no intentions of letting her go anytime soon, and if that was so, Elspeth was going to have to learn to live with him without the constant anger and resentment and fear she felt. She hated Moriarty for making her feel so helpless.

Moriarty waited patiently. His eyes dropped to her parted lips momentarily before rising back to meet her gaze, aware that she was processing and comprehending his words. Elspeth was an open book when it came to her emotions, her eyes truly a window to her soul.

It was endearing, really, to have her in such a vulnerable position. Adorable, even.

"Fine," Elspeth said in a guarded tone.

He knew she would follow, so Moriarty turned and strode back through to the living room. He sat on one of the sofas, stretching his arms behind him and his legs in front of him, and turned on the DVD. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Elspeth had curled up in the same spot on the other sofa. Even in such close proximity of each other, Elspeth managed to stay as far away from Moriarty as she could.

The familiar opening scene made Elspeth smile without meaning to. She raised her eyebrows.

"_Silence of the Lambs_?" she remarked, much to Moriarty's surprise.

"You've seen this?"

"Once or twice," Elspeth murmured. It was his turn to raise his eyebrows. "I've lost count of how many times I've seen it."

Moriarty wanted to laugh. Elspeth Holmes was truly full of surprises.

He didn't say anything though, not wanting to ruin the moment of peace that had occurred between them.

Even though the film was playing and it was one of Moriarty's favourites, his attention was mostly on Elspeth, who seemed blissfully unaware of his eyes on her. Moriarty watched Elspeth as she began to relax, reacting to the action on the screen without meaning to; her eyes widened, she bit down on her bottom lip, she even leaned forwards slightly with anticipation. It was truly beautiful to watch.

"For someone who suggested watching a film," Elspeth said when the film ended. "you spent very little time actually _watching_ it."

Perhaps she wasn't as unaware as he'd thought. Still, Moriarty didn't feel ashamed for watching her rather than the TV. He easily met her gaze when Elspeth looked his way, torn between feeling uncomfortable and feeling amused.

There was something seriously wrong with her if she thought it was amusing.

"What can I say? You're too beautiful not to watch."

Elspeth blinked. That had been the second time he'd complimented her that evening and Elspeth didn't know how she felt. Compliments were nice. After a month of insults and curse words thrown her way, they were a welcome change, but they were from Moriarty and Elspeth didn't know if he was being sincere or just trying to get under her skin. It was hard to tell with him.

"I'm going to bed," Elspeth said quietly, unsure of the time but certain it was late. The sky was dark outside.

"Sweet dreams," Moriarty called after her in a ridiculously high voice. Elspeth didn't dignify that with a response.

* * *

><p>The nightmare was the most vivid she'd had in a long time.<p>

First Sherlock was falling from the hospital roof, then Elspeth was on the roof next to him and no matter how much she screamed or how fast she ran, she couldn't stop him, and she falling – falling – spiralling out of the control – diving into the darkness – then she'd be in 221B but rather than shouting at John, it would be the other way around and Elspeth would recoil in the corner while John screamed horrible words at her, telling her that she was worthless and it was her fault Sherlock was dead. Mrs Hudson and Molly and Lestrade would all glare at Elspeth with disgust, throw her hands away when she reached for them desperately, plead them not to turn their backs on her – then she'd be alone in the darkness, completely defenceless against the nameless, faceless figures reaching for her –

Barely stifling a scream, Elspeth shot up in bed, fighting to untangle herself from the duvet. She gasped for breath and scrambled to her feet, groping the wall in her search for the light switch.

For a long time, Elspeth sat on the floor with her legs curled up to her knees and her head buried in her arms while she sobbed uncontrollably, shaking like a leaf. She wanted Sherlock to not be dead and she wanted Mycroft to watch over them both and she wanted to be with John at 221B, where he was probably spending his nights alone.

The thoughts only made Elspeth cry harder, a loud sob leaving her throat. She didn't care.

Elspeth cried so hard that she made herself sick, stumbling across the hall to the bathroom. It was a horrible sensation, her throat burning and a nasty taste lingering in her mouth, and she remained in the bathroom for several minutes after that.

Weak, tired, and feeling completely and utterly disgusting, Elspeth rose to her feet unsteadily. Clinging to the doorway for support, she staggered down the corridor towards the kitchen. She needed some water.

Moriarty was in the kitchen – what time was it? – but Elspeth didn't even bother acknowledging him, grabbing a glass from the side and holding it under the tap. Her hand shook.

He'd heard everything. Elspeth tossing and turning, the whimpers, her shouting out Sherlock's name while she slept. Though he didn't say anything, Moriarty had heard it all. He watched Elspeth drink the water slowly, then turn and pour herself another glass, trembling uncontrollably. He supposed he should try and comfort her.

"Everything alright?"

"Like you care," Elspeth muttered sourly, her free hand clutching the counter to keep her steady. She wasn't as angry as she sounded. She was too tired.

Setting the glass down, Elspeth ran her hand down her face and leaned against the sink. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to keep steady, and looked back at Moriarty when she noticed he was staring at her again. No matter how hard Elspeth wanted to deny it, Moriarty was handsome, the sort of person she'd sketch – chiselled features, dark hair and eyes, soft lips that twisted into a hard smirk. It was almost easy to forget everything he had done. Maybe that was why so people went into business with Moriarty; it was hard to believe that someone so nice looking could do such terrible things.

But Elspeth wasn't fooled and she tore her eyes away, exhaling shakily. There was still the faint acidic taste in her mouth so she poured herself a third glass of water.

"I'm going back to bed," she murmured, shuffling past Moriarty.

The bed sheets were cold, or maybe Elspeth was hot. She couldn't tell. Curling into a small ball and pulling the duvet up to her chin, Elspeth squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to fall asleep. She felt numb again, so numb that every move felt like a tremendous effort, the only sensation she could feel being the way her head pounded. Elspeth groaned pathetically.

Moriarty followed Elspeth to her room, standing in the doorway. She hadn't shut the door.

Earlier that day, Elspeth had been laughing and joking around with Sebastian, watching a film with Moriarty, _talking_. Grief was not something Moriarty had experienced. Sadness, perhaps, but not whatever dark emotion was consuming her. He frowned, watching Elspeth shiver despite the sweat rolling down her forehead. He wondered – and hoped she wouldn't need to – if she would need to see a doctor. Moriarty decided to give it a little longer.

"I'm leaving now, Ellie," Moriarty called. Elspeth didn't even open her eyes. "Don't do anything stupid."

The warning was unnecessary. Elspeth could barely move, let alone consider doing something stupid. Moriarty watched her for a few seconds longer, his head tilted to the side as he frowned, unable to comprehend what was wrong her.

"Please just leave," Elspeth whimpered softly. Her head was buried in the pillow.

Moriarty didn't say anything as he turned and left, pausing only to shut the door behind him.

* * *

><p><em>Thank you ScissorLuv143, That-Crazy-Psycho, Deductions-of-Sherlolly, ahundredyears-itsnothing, WerewolfHybrid31, Eternal Cat Moon, tardislover1 and PutThatInYourBlog for reviewing! <em>


	3. Chapter 3

_**3.**_

Jim Moriarty was not the sort of man who worried about others. He couldn't care less about the wellbeing of other people. Sebastian called him a psychopath on several separate occasions, but Moriarty preferred to think that he more important things to think about. However, there was no denying that Moriarty felt something akin to worry when he thought about Elspeth, who hadn't left her bed for three days. It wasn't like before, when Elspeth simply tried to avoid him. It was as if Elspeth couldn't move, and she couldn't; she felt too tired, too ill, too _something_.

A doctor, who Moriarty knew would remain discreet and maintain patient confidentiality, checked in on Elspeth. "A virus," he'd told Moriarty. "It shouldn't last long. Give her the antibiotics every day and make sure she eats. She needs to keep her strength up."

But everything Elspeth ate had been thrown up. It wasn't rebellion, just her being unable to keep anything down. She was getting weaker by the day. Moriarty was not worried, and that was what he kept Sebastian when he announced he was going to stay at home, standing over the oven while heating tinned chicken broth.

"You should've made it yourself," Sebastian teased, leaning against the counter. "Show her you really care."

Moriarty ignored him. "Go get her, would you?" he ordered instead. "That's a good boy."

Sebastian scoffed, but went to fetch Elspeth anyway. It took a minute to rouse her from her sleep, and twice as long for her to sit, then stand up. Smothered by a thick jumper but still shivering, Elspeth shuffled into the kitchen.

"Go sit down," Moriarty told her. "It's nearly ready."

Elspeth looked towards Sebastian for some sort of explanation. He didn't offer one. Sighing, she collapsed onto one of the chairs and buried her face into her arms while she waited. The journey from her bedroom to the kitchen had exhausted her.

Moriarty's voice was far too cheery. "Up you get, it's time for lunch. Atta girl," he encouraged when she pushed herself up. "Do you want me to feed you?"

"Please don't."

"Open wide!" Moriarty used the tone of his voice a person would usually reserve for a small child, holding the spoon towards Elspeth. Realising she didn't have a choice but too tired to argue, she opened her mouth and let Moriarty spoon feed her. He only did it a couple of times before handing the spoon to her, watching her eat. "Slowly. Eat it slowly."

Elspeth did as he said. The soup was obviously tinned, but not the crappy sort of tinned soup that was watery and left a nasty taste. It was the sort of tinned soup with flavour, that warmed you up all the way down to your toes, and Elspeth realised it was the first time she'd eaten in days.

When she was finished, Elspeth put the spoon down, pushed the bowl away, and peered up at Moriarty from under her eyelashes.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked in a low voice.

"I'm always nice," Moriarty retorted. When he turned his back on her, taking the bowl and spoon through to the kitchen, Elspeth moved from the table to one of the sofas, curling up in the corner and looking at Sebastian with an expectant expression.

"What?"

"Why is he being so nice?"

Sebastian shrugged. "He's worried about you, I guess," was all he said before standing up and leaving Elspeth on the sofa with her thoughts. She frowned. She didn't know Moriarty very well but she knew enough to tell that he didn't worry about anyone but himself.

Sebastian left after a quiet exchange with Moriarty, calling goodbye to Elspeth and shutting the front door behind him. Elspeth was tempted to return to her room. For some strange reason, she stayed in the living room.

"Have you ever played the question game?" Elspeth blurted out, breaking the silence.

Strolling forwards, Moriarty raised a questioning eyebrow and sat on the opposite end of the sofa to her. His eyes were full of mirth. "Nope. What are the rules?"

"Ask each other questions – nothing is off limits, but you have to answer truthfully."

"Alright," Moriarty said, no hint of mocking in his voice. Elspeth blinked. "You go first."

Elspeth pursed her lips together in thought, gazing at Moriarty.

She looked at him like he was a mystery, he realised as he met her gaze evenly. When she wasn't wary, Elspeth stared at him with a slight frown and a questioning look in her eyes, as if there was something about him that she couldn't quite understand. And there _was_. There was a lot about Moriarty that Elspeth didn't know or understand, and suggesting the game – no matter how juvenile – was her way of learning.

"Why a consulting criminal?" Elspeth finally settled on. "When you ask most kids what they want to be when they grow up, they say firemen or astronauts or film stars – how did you decide to become . . ._ that_?"

Moriarty was silent for a moment, drumming his fingers against the back of the sofa. Elspeth waited.

"I wanted to be a detective first," Moriarty revealed. Elspeth couldn't help it; imaging a young Moriarty with a notebook and magnifying glass, making 'deductions', made her grin. She even laughed a little. "Hey, I'm being serious – no laughing."

"Sorry, sorry, go on."

"We're not as different as you think, you and I. We both know how to read people, and I wanted to use that skill to do some good in the world because there were always so many _murders_ and _kidnappings_ and people going missing." Moriarty's nose screwed up, his face contorting with disgust. Elspeth couldn't tear her eyes from him. "But then Carl Powers –" Moriarty didn't say his name. He _spat_ it. "– came along, and you know what he did?"

Elspeth, barely breathing, shook her head silently. Willed Moriarty to carry on talking.

"He _laughed_ at me. He made me look like an idiot – no, like an ordinary person," he corrected. "in front of everybody, and he didn't just do it once. Powers did it again and again. He tormented me."

"So you killed him," Elspeth whispered. Moriarty nodded. "Jesus." She didn't know what she'd been expecting. "Thus began your long, happy career of killing people on a daily basis."

It was meant to be a joke but it didn't sound very funny. It sounded sad.

"My turn," Moriarty said, slapping the sofa so unexpectedly that Elspeth jumped. "How'd you worm yourself into my organisation without anyone noticing for so long? Not even Sherlock did that."

Something flashed in Elspeth's eyes at the mention of Sherlock – sadness, sorrow, grief . . . Moriarty couldn't tell. But then her lips titled into a dry half smile as considered her words, remembering everything that had happened.

"I was angry," Elspeth said. She didn't look at Moriarty. "Still am. I knew that Dad had a bunch of notes and evidence in his room – not even _he_ could convince a court of law to convict someone with his knowledge alone, so I found some names and photos, went to the dodgiest places I could think of, and asked around. You should really consider hiring new employees," she added, turning to Moriarty with a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Hardly any of them knew who I was."

"Idiots," Moriarty muttered. Elspeth gave him a small smile that felt more like a grimace and gazed ahead of her as she carried on talking.

"It's amazing how many people underestimate you just because you're a girl. It was mostly the anger, I think, but some adrenaline as well that helped me fight. I didn't even have to do it for long – all I had to do was disarm them, handcuff them, and text Lestrade. He and Mycroft took it from there."

"I'm impressed," Moriarty told her. He sounded genuine. "Any time you feel like showing me how you fight, feel free to," he added with a smirk. Elspeth laughed.

"I'll remember that. Ok, my go – why us? Why obsess over my Dad and John Watson and what they do?"

"I wasn't _obsessed,_ I was _bored_."

"You have to answer truthfully," Elspeth reminded him, obviously unimpressed by his response.

"I am," Moriarty replied. Frowning back at him, Elspeth decided that was the best she was going to get and didn't protest, waiting for him to ask his next question. "What was your life like before?"

"You already know, you were obsessed – sorry, _bored_."

"No, no, no, don't be _silly_, Ellie. What was your _life_ like – not the cases, not any of that. Your life. Not your life with Sherlock and John, _your_ life. I want to know about you."

Elspeth was taken aback. Moriarty sounded interested in, as in _her_ as a person, and she wasn't used to that. People wanted to know about the elusive Sherlock Holmes and what was he like to live with and did he really make all those deductions himself and what was he like as a parent? Whenever a man expressed an interest in Elspeth, it usually meant they were trying to get into her knickers; not many found it easy to associate intelligence with her pretty face.

So Moriarty's demand was almost flattering, and Elspeth had to figure out what she was going to tell him at first.

"Erm –" Not the most intelligent of starts. Elspeth blushed and blamed the incoherency on her illness. "I . . . I went to college," she said, the first thing that came to her mind. "And I loved it. I did so many art courses and it was amazing because I could spend my days on the third floor with a canvas and paintbrush. I had friends there and we had this spot in the art room that we'd claimed as ours, so we'd meet there for breaks and lunch."

She paused, brushing her hair behind her ear. Moriarty tilted his head to the side.

"Go on," he prompted.

"I liked libraries," Elspeth blurted out without thinking. "And art galleries – I've visited every art gallery in London at least once. I loved going to Camden Market because of the clothes and the food and the people were always so friendly, and I used to paint my toenails all different colours, and I'd always play my music too loud so Mrs Hudson would get annoyed. But everything was alright, y'know? I didn't know why but I always knew that everything would be alright because we always had tomorrow and I'd always have my family –" Elspeth cut herself off. "I thought everything would be alright."

She looked up, her hazel eyes meeting his dark ones, and Moriarty was silent as he nodded thoughtfully. There was no understanding in his eyes but she had expected that. She supposed it was her turn now.

"Why didn't you just kill me when you found out what I was doing?"

"I don't like to get my hands dirty. I wanted to see what you would do . . . how far you would go."

Elspeth blinked, her head moving to the side. "It was a test," she said. Her lips twitched.

"I never said that," Moriarty said. He didn't hide his amusement and Elspeth gazed back at him for a long time with an odd expression. Moriarty was a puzzle and she was slowly piecing him together. The questions went back and forth for a while, and with every one, Moriarty expressed some sort of interest in Elspeth. He never mentioned Sherlock.

"Did you sleep with Molly?" Elspeth asked bluntly. Moriarty was speechless for a second. He hadn't been expecting that.

"No." Elspeth raised her eyebrows. "I _didn't_," Moriarty insisted with a grin. "Why are you so interested anyway? Feeling a bit jealous?" he was only teasing her but Elspeth couldn't stop herself from blushing.

"No," she said with an indignant tone, glowering back at him. "I was worried about Molly, that's all."

Moriarty laughed. "Don't worry, I left dear old doctor Hooper intact," he assured her. "In fact, I _barely _touched her."

"Too much information," Elspeth muttered, screwing her nose up and looking completely disgusted. She felt sort of relieved, though, because she did actually like Molly and she hated to think that Moriarty may have hurt her in any way. A wicked grin spread across her face. "What about Kitty Riley?"

"Ah ah ah," Moriarty chided. "Take it in turns, remember?"

"That means you did."

Moriarty shook his head in disbelief, grinning, and Elspeth laughed. Her laughter stopped abruptly when she realised what she was doing and she stared at Moriarty in disbelief, wondering how he had made her feel so comfortable as to make her laugh for a few seconds.

"Was is something I said?" Moriarty asked in mock seriousness, noticing Elspeth's expression. She didn't say anything as she stood up and walked through to her bedroom, feeling Moriarty's eyes watching her every step. She wished that she could cry but it felt like there weren't any more tears to shed, so Elspeth collapsed on her bed and curled up, staring at the wall.

Her phone was charging next to her. Elspeth generally tried to avoid using it because she was bombarded with texts from Lestrade and John and Mycroft, and even Molly sometimes, just to check up on her. In the first few days after she left, John would leave her voicemails. Sometimes they were drunken voicemails and his voice was wobble and break when he choked back a sob, and eventually they made Elspeth so guilty that she turned her phone off.

Now, however, she had another voicemail. The first one in weeks.

It was from John. Elspeth's finger hovered between the two options – listen or delete. Usually she deleted them but this was the most recent one, left only a few hours ago, and Elspeth felt like she ought to listen to it.

"_Hi, Ellie, it's John_." He sounded sober and tired. "_I don't know if you're ignoring me or if you've got a new phone . . . I understand, I guess. Erm – I'm calling about Sherlock's . . ."_ his voice trailed off then. Elspeth held the phone tighter. "_Funeral_," John choked out. "_I know it's been a month but there's been so many stories in the paper and I've been putting it off for as long as I could because I was hoping that you would be back in time to help arrange it but . . . well, you're not, so Mycroft and I sorted it. I've texted you the details. Please – please come. I don't know if I can do this on my own._"

The voicemail ended there with John's soft sob and a click, and Elspeth lowered the phone. The funeral. She hadn't even thought about the funeral. Poor John had organised it practically by himself – Mycroft was hardly a source of comfort – and Elspeth had completely forgotten.

She checked her texts and found the one from John with the details. She knew the Church. It was that coming weekend.

Elspeth's heart missed a beat. Would Moriarty let her go?

Of course. He wasn't _that_ cruel . . . was he? Elspeth frowned when she considered him, thinking about how he had made her soup and talked to her and made her laugh. He couldn't stop her from attending her own father's funeral. Hell, Elspeth would break out of the flat if that was what she had to do. It didn't settle the uneasy feeling in her stomach though.

* * *

><p>The weekend came and Elspeth emerged from her room with a solemn expression, wearing a black dress with a thick cardigan over the top. She'd even tied her hair back into a neat bun.<p>

Clutching her bag, Elspeth's hard exterior faltered when she saw Moriarty and Sebastian at the table, drinking coffee and eating their breakfast. Sebastian glanced up at her and returned to his paper, but Moriarty's eyes lingered, taking everything in. She gazed back at him silence for a few seconds with a pleading look in her eyes.

"Please," was all Elspeth could say, and even that was difficult. At first she thought that Moriarty was refuse, and she was surprised when he reached into his pocket, taking a set of keys out and handing them to Sebastian.

"Want a lift?" Sebastian asked. Elspeth nodded. "Alright, let's go then."

Sebastian strode towards the front door and Elspeth went to follow him, pausing before she left so she could look at Moriarty a final time.

"Thank you," she said softly. She didn't say anything else, turning and catching up with Sebastian, who was already halfway down the corridor. He was silent and so was Elspeth, who took the opportunity to actually look at where she was being held. Or living. She couldn't decide which. The apartment block was definitely posh. Elspeth almost felt out of place.

Elspeth recognised one of the cars when she and Sebastian walked out to the car park because it was the car Sebastian had driven her there in. She gravitated towards it automatically but Sebastian laughed softly, put a hand on her shoulder, and guided her to a different one.

"How many cars has he got?" Elspeth asked without thinking. Sebastian laughed again, shrugging, and opened the door for her.

"Where to, then?"

He sounded so casual, like it was a day out, but Elspeth tried not to dwell on it as she gave him the address. "Can you drop me off round the corner or down the street? I'm not going to run off, I swear, but I kind of don't want my family getting the wrong idea."

Sebastian gave her a dubious look. "Alright," he agreed. "But I'm not leaving until I see you at the Church."

It didn't take them long to get there, and when they did, Elspeth unbuckled her seatbelt. She then froze. She went to open the door but withdrew her hand again, letting it rest on her lap as she sat back in her seat, taking in a few shallow breaths. Looking at the clock on the dashboard, Elspeth could see she was already a few minutes late and if she didn't get a move on, she might end up missing it. But she couldn't make herself move.

"You ok?" Sebastian asked. Elspeth bit her bottom lip. "Look, if you're not up to it, I'll drive us back and –"

"No," Elspeth said. It took them both by surprise. "I have to do this."

She opened the door and got out of the car before she could stop herself, and Elspeth's heart raced with every step she took towards the Church. Sherlock would've scoffed at the idea of having a Church service for his funeral; he'd never been religious. Elspeth wondered how John and Mycroft picked out things like the flowers, because even she found it difficult to remember what Sherlock liked and disliked. He had very particular tastes.

The Church doors were closed. Elspeth took in a deep breath, braced herself, and pushed them open so she could walk inside.

There weren't that many people there. Mycroft and John, Molly, Mrs Hudson. Lestrade was there, and what surprised Elspeth the most was seeing a teary eyed Anderson sitting next to him. The past month had not been kind to Anderson; his hair was overgrown and needed a wash, and he had the beginning of a beard on his chin. It had aged him. Sherlock's death had aged them all.

A few people looked round at the sound of the door opening. Elspeth paused, feeling very much like a deer in the headlight, and reluctantly met John's eyes. He was right at the front with Mycroft, staring at her with hope and relief.

Elspeth made her feet move. She'd wanted to sidle in, sit at the back, and grieve in peace but now they'd all seen her . . . with every step, Elspeth found herself getting closer and closer to John, and before she knew it, she was sitting between him and Mycroft. John didn't say a word as he reached out, covering Elspeth's hand with his own and squeezing. He didn't care that she'd been ignoring him for weeks. All John cared about was that Elspeth was alive.

She didn't squeeze his hand back, nor did Elspeth pull away. She stayed very still and eventually John pulled away, a little hurt. He didn't know that just seeing him made Elspeth feel guilty.

Elspeth was silent throughout the whole funeral. Most people cried but she remained dry eyed, staring ahead of her like she was watching a film. John recognised her glazed expression because he had seen it on Sherlock so many times and he wondered if it was Elspeth's way of coping. He didn't know that she'd spent a whole month crying.

John spoke. So did Molly and Lestrade; Mycroft either didn't have anything to say or didn't want to speak. Elspeth half expected the priest to call her up but John didn't know if she was even going to turn up, and she couldn't help but feel relieved. What was there to say?

About halfway through the ceremony, Elspeth decided that she couldn't take it anymore, rising to her feet and striding out of the Church. It was too much; she couldn't sit there, listening to everyone talk about her Dad, when the man who _killed_ him was alive and no one else knew. To make things worse, Elspeth was living with him and was actually beginning to feel comfortable in Moriarty's company. She didn't flinch, or struggle to look at him, and she didn't have to leave whichever room he was in. Elspeth felt like she was betraying Sherlock.

"Ellie," John said quietly, also standing up. He was going to follow her when Mycroft put his hand on John's shoulder, stopping him. He knew Elspeth. She didn't want to be found.

* * *

><p>The graveyard was empty and it was pouring with rain when Elspeth returned to Sherlock's grave, sitting down in front of it. She crossed her legs.<p>

"I'm sorry," Elspeth said to Sherlock, even though she knew he couldn't hear her. He'd never hear her again. "I've messed up – I've messed up_ really_ badly." Elspeth tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She was soaking wet. "I think I'm messed up," she murmured. "I . . . I never should've left Baker Street. It's too late now." She frowned. "I have so much stuff I want to say, but it – it's all in here –" she tapped the side of her head. "– and I can't really make sense of it. But I – erm . . . I wish this wasn't it. I wish you weren't dead, so, please . . . stop being dead. For me."

There was nothing more for Elspeth to say, so she sat in silence and let herself get soaked by the rain, warm tears trickling down her cheeks. It was all so real then; Elspeth had to accept that Sherlock was dead. The thought made her sob, her whole body shaking, and she buried her face in her hands. Elspeth was so wrapped up in her grief that she didn't hear the footsteps.

It was still raining but not on Elspeth, and the strange notion made her look up.

Moriarty was standing over her with an open umbrella, shielding them both from the rain. With a hat pulled down low over his face and a coat with a high collar, he was barely recognisable. Not that there was anyone around to recognise him. Everyone had gone home.

"You'll catch a cold sitting out here like that," Moriarty remarked. Elspeth couldn't tell if he was being serious.

"Why are you here?"

Moriarty shrugged. "I can't stand to see a damsel in distress."

Elspeth rolled her eyes. "Would it kill you to give a straight answer, just once?" she snapped back, cold and tired. She was torn between being grateful Moriarty arrived with an umbrella – Elspeth would've been sitting there all evening otherwise – and pissed off that Moriarty had the nerve to even consider finding her at Sherlock's grave. She ran a hand down her face. "Is Sebastian here?"

"No," Moriarty said, frowning as if it was obvious. _Great,_ Elspeth thought. _Awkward journey home._ There was a pause before he asked, "How was it?"

Elspeth blinked, frowned, and slowly raised her head again to meet Moriarty's eyes. "Are you seriously asking me how my father's funeral was?" She sounded so incredulous that even Moriarty grimaced a little.

"Just trying to make conversation. Won't be doing that again," he muttered the last part under his breath but Elspeth heard him, rising to her feet and whirling around to face Moriarty.

"I'm sorry if I'm an inconvenience, but if I recall correctly, I wasn't given a choice in the our current living arrangements," Elspeth snapped back with fire in her eyes, her temper rising when Moriarty only smirked in response, not afraid of her outburst. "It has been a very long and tiring day for me, because, in case you've forgotten, I buried my father today! So maybe you should keep your pathetic, smartarse comments to yourself and actually consider other people for a change!"

Moriarty was silent for a few seconds and Elspeth wondered if she had somehow overstepped the mark. She didn't really care if she had upset or offended him to begin with, but then the unsettling reality that Elspeth was going to have return home with that man. If she pissed off Moriarty, there was no telling what he do or say.

Elspeth put on a brave face, glowering at Moriarty as she crossed her arms and waited for his response. He looked calm.

"Are you finished?"

The response shocked her a little. Lifting her head higher, Elspeth pressed her lips together in a tight line. "Yeah," she said. "I'm finished."

"Good. Come on, Tiger's cooking dinner and I don't trust him not to burn down my entire apartment," Moriarty said, turning and walking away like he expected Elspeth to follow. She didn't have much choice.

"W – wait . . . you're not mad at me?"

Moriarty stopped. "No. Should I be?"

Elspeth opened her mouth, taken aback by Moriarty's response, and he watched in amusement as she shook her head silently. She eyed him suspiciously, almost warily – like she was expecting him to blow up any second, start screaming in her face. But all Moriarty did was give Elspeth that annoying smirk of his and turned his back on her, walking away.

"I suggest you come with me, Ellie," Moriarty called over his shoulder in a sing song voice. "There's no telling how many big bad wolves are lurking in the woods."

There it was again. Moriarty's inability to give a straight answer. Elspeth was so used to Sherlock and John's blunt way of putting things across that Moriarty's riddles and word games just got on her nerves. But even she couldn't deny that there was a hint of a threat in Moriarty's strange words, and Elspeth had probably pissed off a lot of people in the past month.

"Dammit," Elspeth muttered, catching up with Moriarty. He was walking slowly so it didn't take her long, and when she joined his side, Moriarty gave her a sideways glance. "I'm only here because you haven't killed me yet, and that means you're the least likely to."

"Least likely to kill you?" Moriarty asked, unable to hide the amusement in his voice. Elspeth nodded and kept her eyes ahead of her.

"Like I said, if you wanted me dead, I would be by now."

"I don't want you dead."

"And that is both a relief and terrifying," Elspeth said dryly.

"You can get under the umbrella, you know," Moriarty pointed out to her, noticing the way Elspeth walked just out of reach from it. "I won't bite." Elspeth gave him a wary look. "I _promise_. I brought it especially for you." With a little more coaxing from Moriarty, Elspeth reluctantly ducked under the umbrella and found herself standing close to Moriarty. Too close for comfort. As if sensing her discomfort, Moriarty made things even more awkward for Elspeth by putting his arm around her waist and pulling her even closer.

Elspeth jerked away immediately, glaring at him. "What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Making sure you don't get wet," Moriarty said, the perfect picture of innocence as he batted his eyelashes and put his arm around her a second time. Elspeth tried to resist but found herself nestled against Moriarty's side, her hip bumping his. It wasn't even an entirely unpleasant experience, Elspeth hated to admit, especially if she closed her eyes and pretended she was walking with anyone other than Moriarty. The thought made her shake her head. Moriarty, of course, was enjoying every last minute of it.

Moriarty opened the door for Elspeth when they reached the car, holding the umbrella over her, and Elspeth couldn't decide why he was acting like a gentleman all of a sudden. She gave him a hard stare when Moriarty took his seat next to her.

Elspeth had seen several sides to Moriarty. There was the cool, calculating man who had confronted her in his office, but there was also the more humane side that she'd seen the first night. To add to the confusion, Moriarty also appeared to be capable of kindness – getting her a doctor, making her soup . . . as much as she hated to admit it, Moriarty was actually kind of human.

Looking over at Elspeth, Moriarty smirked when he noticed her staring at him. Elspeth gazed at him for a few seconds more before dragging her eyes away from his, turning in her seat so she was facing out of the window.

"Big bad wolves," Elspeth murmured after a long silence. She didn't look at Moriarty. "Who else have I pissed off, then?"

"How long have you got?"

A half smile appeared on Elspeth's face but she didn't reply, resting her head against the window, and Moriarty took his eyes off the road long enough to drink in her features. She looked so sorrowful and beautiful, and Moriarty was reminded of a picture of a princess he'd seen in a fairy tale when he was young. He could've stared at her all day, especially since Elspeth was blissfully unaware – she was daydreaming, off in her own world somewhere – but Moriarty knew he had concentrate, and reluctantly tore his eyes from her.

"Thank you," Elspeth said. She'd said it that morning but felt the need to repeat her words. "For letting me go today."

Moriarty couldn't hide his surprise, giving her a wary look. "You're not going to cry again, are you?"

"No." Elspeth gave him a dry small and added, "I think I'm all cried out."

"Good," Moriarty muttered, making Elspeth smile even more, though she tried not to. "Even though it goes without saying, you can't go out on your own." His tone was dark, so Elspeth knew that he was being serious – the most serious he'd been since Elspeth had found out he was still alive.

"Seriously, how many people have I pissed off – people I wouldn't necessarily _want_ to piss off?"

"All of them."

"How many is that?"

"A lot," Moriarty said simply, glancing at Elspeth. She frowned. "If you stick with Seb and I, you'll be fine. No one will ever get to you." It was a promise, and not one either of them thought Moriarty would ever have to make. Elspeth wasn't sure how she felt knowing her life was in his hands; Moriarty could easily throw her out in the streets, let all those people get to her. Instead, he'd taken her in, given her a roof over her head . . .

"Thanks," Elspeth said slowly. ". . . I think." She never thought that of all the people in London, Moriarty would be the one to protect her, and for Elspeth, that realisation was both comforting and terrifying.

* * *

><p><em>Thank you ScissorLuv143, Eternal Cat Moon, That-Crazy-Psycho, LittleGee, WerewolfHybrid31, James Birdsong, Adrillian1497 and Deductions-of-Sherlolly for reviewing!<em>


	4. Chapter 4

_**4.**_

Sebastian was relieved when Moriarty and Elspeth returned, and though Elspeth was soaking wet, neither of them looked pissed off or like they had attacked each other, so Sebastian supposed that the ride home went well.

"Dinner's nearly ready," he told them. Elspeth, looking mildly surprised that Sebastian could actually cook – she felt an unfair disadvantage; she was the only one who seemed to have a difficulty making edible food – murmured something about getting changed, walking through to her bedroom in her wet clothes. Shutting the door behind her, she stripped down methodically, folding her clothes in a neat pile on the floor. Elspeth changed into dry, warmer clothes and stared down at the pile by her feet for a long time, considering her options. Eventually, she pushed the dress and cardigan under her bed.

She left them there for a very long time after that.

* * *

><p>There was only so long a person could go without leaving their home, and for Elspeth, it was only a few days. Moriarty and Sebastian came and went, both having jobs, but Elspeth was stuck in the flat and she felt like she was going crazy. She tried to distract herself with drawing or reading. It didn't work.<p>

"I feel like I'm going crazy," Elspeth complained, pacing back and forth in front of the window and running her hands through her wild hair. "Seriously, Sebastian, I've got frickin' _cabin fever_."

Sebastian smirked. "I've always wondered what that's like."

"It's not funny! You can come and go as you please, but me?" Elspeth snorted. "I'm stuck in here. All day. Seriously, don't people _die_ from lack of sunlight?" She didn't give Sebastian a chance to reply. "I am literally going crazy right now, I can't think straight, I – I – _look_, I'm shaking, I'm actually shaking. I have to get out of here soon."

"Are you done?"

Elspeth glowered at Sebastian. "You're not funny, y'know," she retorted. "Yes, I am done."

"Fancy shooting something?" Sebastian asked, cutting Elspeth off when she started to complain that she wasn't in the mood for more games. "I didn't mean the game, Ellie, I meant actually shooting something. I need to go down to the shooting range anyway, so if you're really that desperate, you can come with."

"And shoot stuff?" Elspeth sounded wary, giving Sebastian a suspicious look; she'd handled guns only a few times before, but she had never actually shot one. John refused to let Sherlock or Elspeth anywhere near his gun when Sherlock blew all those holes in the wall of 221B, and they were so loud and destructive that Elspeth never had the desire to shoot a gun, especially when she thought about the scar on her shoulder. "How do I know this isn't an elaborate scheme to kill me?"

Snorting, Sebastian laughed at her. "Get your head out of your arse, Ellie. If we wanted you dead then you would be dead by now, believe me. Are you coming or what?"

"Alright," Elspeth said with a hint of reluctance. "Just don't shoot me, ok?"

* * *

><p>Sebastian was a surprisingly good teacher. He refused to let Elspeth anywhere near a gun until she could repeat all the safety drills he'd talked her through word for word, and even then he stood over her, watching her every move as she showed him how to work the gun. When Sebastian decided that Elspeth's knowledge was sufficient, he took the gun from her and handed her safety gear.<p>

"Remind me why we're doing this again," Elspeth said.

"Because I need practise, you need something to do, and you need to learn how to protect yourself," Sebastian explained, loading the gun and applying the safety latch as he turned to face Elspeth. She gave him a dubious look. "You've pissed off a lot of people, Ellie, and Jim's pretending that he can handle it, but he doesn't control all the crimes in England."

"Oh yeah, he kinda mentioned how many people I pissed off. So you think I'm actually going to have to use one of those?" Elspeth gestured towards the gun in Sebastian's hand, frowning at him. Sebastian nodded.

"Definitely. Now put that stuff on, sit down over there and don't move until I tell you to."

Elspeth rolled her eyes, but did as Sebastian told her; wearing protective glasses and noise cancelling headphones, she sat down on the chair and watched Sebastian aim. She flinched at the sound of gunshot.

"And that," Sebastian said with a smug grin. "is how you shoot something."

Staring at the bullet marks on the target, Elspeth stood up and wandered forwards, leaning against the barrier. His aim was incredible. If Sebastian had wanted to kill her all those weeks ago – trying to beat Moriarty at his own game was one of the most stupid decisions Elspeth had ever made – then he would've, so perhaps Moriarty really was telling the truth when he said that he didn't want Elspeth dead.

"Can I have a go?" Elspeth asked, tilting her head to the side as she gazed up at Sebastian. She needed something to take her mind off things, to stop her from thinking and remembering, and the thought of holding a gun between her hands would be the perfect distraction.

Sebastian did a quick safety check, then handed the gun over to Elspeth with a hint of reluctance. It was far heavier than she expected and she took a few seconds to adjust her grip, her hands clammy, shaking Sebastian away when he tried to help her. She had to do this on her own. It was like Sebastian said; she had to learn how to protect herself.

"Alright, take in a deep breath," Sebastian instructed, putting his hands on Elspeth's shoulders and guiding her towards the barrier. "Keep both hands on the gun, lift it – yeah, like that – aim at the target." He had a calming tone to his voice that Elspeth focused on. "Steady your hands, Ellie. Here, like this." Reaching around her, Sebastian covered Elspeth's hands with his own and held them there, helping her steady herself. Elspeth inhaled deeply. "You ready?"

"Yeah," Elspeth whispered. Sebastian was so close, _too_ close, and though she liked him – under different circumstances, Elspeth was certain that she could consider him a friend – she thought about how he had shot her in the shoulder and she hoped that Sebastian would stop touching her.

He let go and Elspeth let out a quiet sigh of relief, pressing her finger against the trigger.

"When you're ready, pull the trigger."

Elspeth felt the gunshot go through her and it was exhilarating but horrifying at the same time, and her ears were ringing despite the headphones and her heart was racing, and all Elspeth could think was _how the hell does Sebastian do this for a living? _She'd jerked back a little, not used to the kick, and Sebastian steadied her with his hand on her shoulder, grinning at her.

"How was it?" he asked her. It took Elspeth a few seconds to find the words.

"Erm – it was . . . ok," she finally said. "Can I do that again?"

"Sure, but maybe this time you could actually hit the _person_," Sebastian teased. The target was a cut out shaped like the figure of a person, and Elspeth had missed it by several inches. She scowled. "Why don't I move it closer, make it easier for you?"

"Don't you dare. I can do this," Elspeth insisted.

It went on like that for about an hour, and no matter how many times Sebastian tried to assist Elspeth, she would brush him off, telling him that she could do it. She kept missing, and the more times Elspeth missed, the angrier she got.

"You're shooting a little closer to the target," Sebastian told her, ever the optimist. Elspeth glared at him over her shoulder. "Look, you want to give it a rest?"

It wasn't so much a question as it was an order, and Elspeth had no choice but to hand the gun over and take the seat Sebastian had previously occupied, running a hand down her face. Sebastian, of course, started to show off; he even showed Elspeth how he could shoot a moving target. It didn't do much to ease her annoyance but it was entertaining to watch, and made Elspeth more determined than ever to get the hang of it.

Moriarty joined them as Sebastian was giving the gun back to Elspeth. Pausing, Sebastian's hand lingered as he tried to work out Elspeth's reaction. He didn't want her to get in trouble trying to shoot Moriarty.

But Elspeth simply glanced Moriarty's way, looking him up and down before turning her attention back to the gun. It wasn't much but in Sebastian's eyes, it was progress.

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Seb?" Moriarty teased with a smirk in Elspeth's direction. "Letting little ol' Ellie here handle a gun? Sounds . . . dangerous to me."

"Yeah, she's a real terror," Sebastian muttered. "Hasn't hit the target once yet."

"Wouldn't have anything to do with the crappy teacher," Elspeth said under her breath. Sebastian raised his eyebrows, obviously taking offence, but Moriarty smirked, strolling forwards.

"Would it help if you had a different teacher?"

Elspeth looked up at him. She had to tilt her head back when Moriarty was close to meet his eyes because he was taller than her, and she'd added that to the list of things about Moriarty that really annoyed her. It was a long list.

"Are you offering?" she asked without thinking. There was a gleam in her eyes and Moriarty couldn't stop the small smile spreading across his face, the pair caught in an intense staring match for a few seconds. Sebastian watched them for as long as he could bare, then cleared his throat awkwardly, telling them that he was going to practise on another target. Moriarty didn't take his eyes off Elspeth.

"What's this in aid of, then? I thought Seb and I were going to be your knights in shining armour."

Elspeth snorted. "I can look after myself," she retorted. Moriarty's eyes flickered towards the target and he gave her a comical grimace, making Elspeth's cheeks burn. "Once I learn how to aim properly I can look after myself."

"You're holding it wrong," Moriarty said when Elspeth turned her back on him, ready to aim. She ignored him.

Hearing footsteps, Elspeth bit down on her bottom lip and willed Moriarty not to come any closer even though she knew that he would, and he did. He stood so close that Elspeth was enveloped in the heat radiating off him and felt the way his breath tickled the back of her neck, her own breath hitching when his hands rested on her hips, moving them so they were at an angle. He let go, then placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Stand up straight," Moriarty murmured. His voice was low and his words were calculated. Elspeth stiffened against him, feeling her back hit his chest, and she swallowed against the lump in her throat. "Turn your body to the side. Breathe."

It was hard to breathe when he was so close. Elspeth kept quiet though, doing as Moriarty told her, and his closed his hands around hers like Sebastian had earlier. His hand were warmer. More gentle.

"Put your hand here," Moriarty said. He guided her hand with his own. "Press your finger against the trigger . . ." his finger curled around hers and Elspeth was suddenly reminded of when she was a kid and would make those silly pinky promises small children made, and how they would hook their little fingers together as they solemnly swore to keep whatever promise they had made. "Fire."

Moriarty let go of Elspeth and she shot, her arms jerking, but the bullet hit the target and she couldn't believe it, staring ahead of her. It had been completely different from when Sebastian was teaching her; when he touched her, it was authoritative. Moriarty's touch, however, had a completely different feel. An intimate one. The thought made her shudder.

"Better?" Moriarty asked with a grin like a shark's.

"How'd you learn to do that?"

"Just because I don't like getting my hands dirty doesn't mean I'm entirely opposed to it." He smirked, watching Elspeth as she slowly removed the headphones and glasses, running a hand through her hair. "You never know who wants to hurt you in this business."

"Well in my case, it's pretty much everyone," Elspeth said dryly. She rubbed her wrist.

It wasn't unnoticed by Moriarty. He quirked an eyebrow. "Sore?"

"A bit," Elspeth said, shrugging. "Seb warned me about it, but – hey, if it stops me from getting killed, I can handle a sore wrist." It felt very morbid to be discussing her own death as casually as she might talk about the weather, but since Moriarty had told her how many people she'd pissed off, it was all she could think about. Now she knew what it was like for Sherlock. "I'll put some ice on it later," she muttered.

Moriarty reached out, his hand close to her wrist. "May I?"

Surprised by his polite request, Elspeth nodded and allowed Moriarty to take her hand in his own, using his fingers to gently probe her wrist. He did it for a few seconds.

"It's not broken or strained, just a bit bruised."

"Oh, you're a doctor as well now?" Elspeth remarked. "Consulting criminal, gunslinger, doctor. Let me guess, you're also a five star chef and the Freddie Mercury of your generation." There was hint of sarcasm in her voice but Moriarty could hear the humour as well, smirking when he realised she was teasing him.

"What can I say? I'm a talented guy."

"And a modest one."

"Now you're just flirting with me," Moriarty said, making Elspeth stare. Her back straightened when he winked at her, her cheeks turning pink, but she otherwise didn't react. "I'm surprised you haven't shot me yet, actually."

"The thought never occurred to me," she admitted, taking Moriarty by surprise. "And even if I did, there wouldn't be much point in shooting the only person who can really protect me." Elspeth shrugged, not meeting Moriarty's eyes as she played with the gun in her hand, biting down on her bottom lip. She grinned. "Plus I would probably miss you. I do have a crappy aim, remember?"

Smirking, Moriarty stepped forwards so he was even closer to Elspeth, trapping her between his body and the barrier behind her. The gun was between them and he lifted her hands so the barrel pressed against his chest.

"Now you won't," he said softly, grinning like he wasn't being held at gun point.

Elspeth stared up at him and there was hatred in her eyes – _so much_ _hatred_ – and she could feel her finger inching towards the trigger because it would be so easy to kill him, end it all. All Moriarty did was smirk at her, daring her to do it, and Elspeth's anger flared inside of her, urging her to pull the trigger. She didn't see the man who had taken her in, kept her safe from the people who wanted to hurt her, but the man who had destroyed her life. And she hated him for it.

There was the lightest of pressures on the trigger. Then Elspeth took her finger off it, shook her head, and put the gun down.

"I need some air," she muttered, pushing past Moriarty.

Elspeth didn't try to run because there was nowhere to run to, but when she strode outside, she collapsed on a bench a little way down the street. Trembling, she ran her hands through her hair and squeezed her eyes shut.

What was wrong with her? She'd considered shooting a man – _killing _a man. Ever since Sherlock's death, Elspeth had turned into a hateful, vengeful person who was bent on destruction and it scared her more than she cared to admit. Hearing footsteps, Elspeth lifted her head and glared at Moriarty as he approached her, sitting down on the bench. He was the last person she wanted to see.

"Why did you do that?" Elspeth asked. Her voice was barely a whisper. "I could've killed you."

"To prove a point," Moriarty said, looking back at her. "You see, Ellie, you and I . . . we're alike. You could've killed me, you _wanted_ to kill me." Elspeth was shaking her head as he spoke but Moriarty continued; she was only denying it because she knew it was the truth. "You can lie and you can pretend, but you did spend months fighting dirty – yes, I know _all_ about it," he added when Elspeth's eyes widened. "More than you told me. We're just the same, you and I."

"We're nothing alike," Elspeth said. "_Nothing_. You have people killed for a living – I did what was _right_, I had them arrested, I never killed anyone!"

"But you wanted to, didn't you? You were _so angry_, remember?"

"You're twisting things."

"Am I?" Moriarty asked. Elspeth gazed back at him in silence. "Tell me, Ellie, did you want to kill me?"

There were tears in Elspeth's eyes and she didn't bother wiping them away as she bit down on her bottom lip, so hard that she could tasted coppery blood on her tongue, and she slowly nodded.

"I'm nothing like you," she insisted. She didn't sound certain. Hot tears rolled down Elspeth's cheeks as she looked back at him in horror, remembering how the female officer taking care of her had been so kind, telling her that none of it was her fault. She wasn't a bad person; she didn't deserve it. But now all Elspeth could think about was how determined she'd been to hurt as many people as she could, ready to pull the trigger and end Moriarty's life . . . it scared Elspeth. "I'm _not_."

Moriarty quirked an eyebrow. "Who are you trying to convince?" he murmured, reaching out and brushing one of the tears away with his thumb. Elspeth flinched. "Me or you?"

"I'm not a bad person," Elspeth whispered. Moriarty touched her cheek again, his finger following the line of her cheekbone, and she didn't move away as he tucked her hair behind her ear. He was so gentle. Elspeth closed her eyes. "Don't – please . . . _don't_."

Withdrawing his hand, Moriarty observed Elspeth. She was so vulnerable and it would've been easy to do anything, but he didn't. There was no game, no one to hurt or put in danger; there was only a scared girl, grieving and messed up, and a man who found he couldn't – didn't _want_ to – hurt her.

Elspeth let out a small sigh when Moriarty took his hand away and opened her eyes, staring ahead of her with an almost vacant expression.

"Don't be nice to me," she said to Moriarty without looking at him. "Please just don't do it. We're not friends and we never will be, so don't act like we are. I am nothing like you and you are never going to be any more than the person I happen to be living with – no matter how unconventional the arrangement is." Elspeth turned face him with a hard look in her eyes, disguising the pain. He wasn't fooled. "I _hate_ you."

There wasn't any malice in Elspeth's voice. She said it in such a matter of fact tone that she almost could've been talking about any mundane occurrence, and it wasn't a surprise to Moriarty to hear her say it because they knew it was true, but it was sad to hear someone so young to feel that way. People Elspeth's age weren't meant to hate; they were supposed to love and laugh and live. Make the wrong decisions, fall in love over and over, get drunk at a party in a room of people they didn't know and wake up the next morning with a hangover and a number scribbled on their hand.

But Elspeth never had the chance at a normal life because she had Sherlock Holmes as a father and though life with him was brilliant, wonderful, extraordinary, Elspeth never got the chance to be a teenager. She grew up too fast in an unforgiving world; there was no way she could be normal after everything that had happened.

"I know," Moriarty murmured. He didn't sound angry or hurt or sad, and when Elspeth stared at him with a mistrusting look in her eyes, he thought she was so beautiful; Moriarty couldn't stop himself from touching her cheek again, feeling the soft skin beneath his fingertips. She wanted to pull away so badly, but somehow Elspeth found herself instinctively leaning into his touch, closing her eyes again so she could pretend it was anyone other than Moriarty. "It bothers you, doesn't it? Relying on me for your safety."

He was being so kind, so soft . . . Elspeth nodded once. "You know it does."

"I won't let anything happen to you," Moriarty promised, his voice low – sinfully so – and his hand cupping her chin made her open her eyes. "Believe me, you'll be the first to know if you're in danger."

"From you?"

She didn't like him, she didn't trust him. Even so, Moriarty didn't stop himself from saying, "I'm not going to hurt you, Ellie."

Elspeth pulled away slightly, her chin no longer in his hand. "How can you say that when you already have?" she asked. Her voice was quiet and shaking, looking so vulnerable that Moriarty almost felt sorry for her. "You may be the one 'protecting me' –" Elspeth used air quotes, making Moriarty raise his eyebrows. "– but you are the one who has caused this, _all_ of this, so don't pretend that you care about me."

Moriarty gazed back at Elspeth for a few silent seconds, turning away only when he heard footsteps; Sebastian approached them with a sense of trepidation, a grim expression on his face.

"What?" Moriarty demanded.

Sebastian sighed. "It's Roscoe," he said. Elspeth glanced at Moriarty and his expression turned from unfathomable to angry, a dark look in his eyes. "He's coming here, he wants to talk to you about the deal – I tried to stop him," Sebastian added when Moriarty rose to his feet, Elspeth's eyes flickering between the two. "He insisted."

Wondering who Roscoe was, Elspeth bit her lip and looked up at Sebastian, who was staring at her with an almost worried expression; she felt uneasy.

Moriarty glanced over his shoulder at Elspeth, their eyes meeting for a second before he turned back to Sebastian. "How soon?"

"Five minutes. They're really close."

"How'd they know we were here?"

"I honestly don't know, but we need to get her out of here," Sebastian said. Elspeth knew they were talking about her and she stood up, standing by Moriarty's side. She had no idea who Roscoe was, but Elspeth had some idea as to why Sebastian was worried; he must've been one of the people Elspeth had pissed off. She frowned. The obvious solution was to get out of there because Elspeth did not want to be on the receiving end of any abuse about to hurled her way – physical or verbal – but with Moriarty and Sebastian, there wasn't much anyone could do to hurt her.

That was what Elspeth kept telling herself as she shuffled a bit closer to Moriarty without realising, biting her bottom lip while he glanced at her a second time. When she looked up at him, Elspeth watched Moriarty frown to himself, gazing at her with a thoughtful expression. He was thinking the same as her.

"How long have we got?" Moriarty asked, so abrupt that it made Elspeth jump. Sebastian explained that they only had a few minutes – less than five minutes now – and Moriarty turned back to Elspeth, running his fingers through her hair as he pushed it over her shoulders, pulling her hood up for good measure. Moriarty put his fingers under Elspeth's chin. "Stay close to me, and keep your pretty little mouth –" he ran his thumb along her bottom lip. "– _shut_."

Elspeth's eyes narrowed. She didn't say a word, though, as a dark car pulled up and came to a stop not far from them; Elspeth let out a small noise of protest when Moriarty put his arm around his waist, pulling away, but he just tugged her even closer and gave her a warning look.

"Jerk," Elspeth muttered under her breath.

"Don't complain, love, it's unbecoming," Moriarty said to her, never taking his eyes off the men approaching. Two of them were much taller than the third, dark haired and plain faced with no distinguishing features. The third man was fair haired and light eyed, the complete opposite to Moriarty, but there was something about him that made Elspeth's stomach twist uncomfortably. "Roscoe. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I'm here to talk about the money you owe me." Roscoe had a deep voice and Elspeth peered up at him from under her eyelashes, feeling Moriarty's hand tighten on her waist.

"That doesn't sound like me," Moriarty said.

Raising an eyebrow, Roscoe's lips twitched into an insincere smirk. "You are aware that the business associate you sent to carry out the task is now incarcerated – and he didn't do the job," he said. "So I want my money back. In full."

"I'm afraid it doesn't work like that, my dear."

"Stop playing games, Moriarty," Roscoe growled, taking a step towards them. Sebastian copied him with a hand lingering by the pocket his gun was in, a dangerous gleam in his eyes, and Elspeth felt herself recoiling. "I want my money back _this week_ or –"

"Or what?" There was a shine in Moriarty's eyes that Elspeth recognised. It was the look he got when he felt contemptuous, mocking whoever he was speaking to, but there was a darker implication to the way he was gazing at Roscoe; it was like Moriarty was _daring _him to say or do something stupid so Sebastian could put a bullet through his head. "Do go on, Roscoe, I'd love to hear what you have to say. Enlighten me."

Roscoe seemed to second guess whatever it was he was going to say, his eyes flickering towards Elspeth. They widened a fraction.

"You're that –"

"I'm going to give you the chance to turn and walk away before you finish that sentence," Moriarty interrupted, his voice dangerously low. "And if you breathe a _word _about her, I'll know. Believe me, you will regret it." Moriarty's fingers dug into her waist and Elspeth felt her heart race as she stared back at Roscoe in silence, knowing that she was in trouble.

"You've pissed off a lot of people, girl," Roscoe told Elspeth. She resisted the urge to reply.

"I don't like your tone," Moriarty said, and Elspeth didn't like _his_ tone. It scared her. "Now run away before Sebastian shoots you, there's a good boy."

"You can't protect her forever," Roscoe snarled, glaring at Elspeth long enough to make her look away, then turning to walk away.

"Oh, one more thing," Moriarty called after him. "Next time, make an appointment with my receptionist. I don't appreciate being called on out of office hours."

"So," Elspeth murmured. "_That's_ one of the people I pissed off, huh?"

"Just a silly boy with a grudge. You're fine," Moriarty assured her. Sebastian didn't look convinced though, watching Roscoe with eyes like a hawk while his hand lingered on his gun, ready to act if anything happened. Elspeth was silent again, shaken from the encounter, and she looked at Moriarty when he put his fingers under her chin. "You're not _afraid_, are you?"

Elspeth shook her head and pulled away, and Moriarty let his arm fall to his side as she did. She was trembling but tried to hide it by hugging herself, lingering awkwardly next to him while she tried not to look at Moriarty or Sebastian, pretending that Roscoe's words didn't get to her. _You can't protect her forever_.

She looked so small and Sebastian glanced at her, frowning. "We should get back now," he said.

Moriarty had brought his own car. He put his hand on the small of Elspeth's back as he guided her towards it, leaving Sebastian to speed off in the car he'd taken.

"I wonder how it'll take for the rumours to start," Elspeth said softly as she climbed into the front seat next to Moriarty. She pulled her hood down, smoothing her hair, and grimaced at Moriarty when he gave her a bemused sideways glance. "You know how these things go – people are going to assume that we're sleeping together."

"It doesn't just have to be a rumour," Moriarty said with a roguish grin, putting his hand on her knee. Elspeth grasped his wrist when he started to move his hand higher.

"Don't."

Smirking, Moriarty squeezed Elspeth's knee, letting his hand linger for a few seconds longer before taking it away again. "Would it bother you if rumours started?" he asked.

"You know it would," Elspeth retorted. Moriarty's hand on her leg had made her stomach twist and jolt, and she wasn't sure if it was a good or bad reaction. She didn't like them, but Elspeth was getting used to Moriarty's little touches; the way he would brush her hair over her shoulder, his hand on her waist, even his breath on the back of her neck when he stood too close to her. "Would it bother you?"

"Not at all," Moriarty said, sounding far too cheerful for Elspeth to feel comfortable.

"Why am I not surprised?"

Moriarty turned and gave Elspeth a grin that bordered on cheeky, making him look younger than he was, and not for the first time she was struck by how nice looking he was. She hated him for it. She hated that sometimes Elspeth would be caught off guard and look at Moriarty, seeing him as a seemingly innocent and handsome man rather than the criminal mastermind that he was.

"I know I'm gorgeous, Ellie, but please don't look at me like that. I don't know if I'll be able to control myself."

Elspeth's cheeks turned red. "You're disgusting," she spat.

"You know you love me," Moriarty sung in that ridiculous high pitched voice he liked to use. Elspeth ignored the shiver that went down her spine and looked away, slapping his hand away when he playfully patted her on the thigh. "Come on, Ellie, say it. _Say_ _it._"

"Over my dead body," Elspeth muttered. Moriarty smirked, reaching out and poking Elspeth in the side, making her squirm because she was ticklish. She hid her face so he wouldn't see her smile.

* * *

><p>Elspeth was very jumpy that night, flinching at every little sound. Moriarty followed her into the kitchen, where she was making a cup of hot chocolate to take back to bed with her, and shut the cupboard door with more force than necessary; she jumped.<p>

"_Don't_," Elspeth snapped. "do that."

"Not my fault if you're jumpy," Moriarty teased. "What are you so afraid of, hmm? Scared that Roscoe's going to burst in through that door and whisk you away from me?" He put his hand on her waist and his chin on her shoulder, Moriarty's lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "What are you scared of?"

_You_, Elspeth wanted to say, elbowing Moriarty away from her and taking a step to the side. "Does personal space not mean anything to you?" she asked. "And I'm not afraid of anything."

"Y'know, if you're _really_ afraid, I don't mind sharing my bed for the night."

Moriarty leaned forwards, so close that his breath was warm against her cheeks, and all Elspeth could do was put her hands on his chest before he could get any closer to her. Caught under his intrusive gaze, Elspeth glared up at Moriarty as she slowly withdrew her hands, reaching behind her to pick up her cup. She'd touched him. Elspeth avoided touching him as much as she could but now she'd put her hands on him and even though she was trying to defend himself, the touch had been gentle.

"No," Elspeth said, then added, "Thank you." She held her cup close to her chest, leaning back and stepping around Moriarty. "I'm going to bed."

"Offer still stands," he called after her.

Elspeth didn't respond, shutting her door behind her, and she hated Moriarty _so _much – she hated him, everything he did, everything he had _done_ – but it was hard when he teased her and poked her and toyed with her emotions; Moriarty was making it as difficult as possible for Elspeth to hate him.

Despite everything, when she got into bed and reached for her book, Elspeth smiled to herself.

* * *

><p><em>Thank you tardislover1, Adrillian1497 and ScissorLuv143 for reviewing!<em>

_I got through my first official week of University! I can't lie, it's been incredible; the atmosphere is amazing and the course has been fantastic so far! It was definitely the best choice I've made for a long time. _


	5. Chapter 5

_**5.**_

Elspeth woke up with a start, her fingers grasping the sheets, and she took a few seconds to calm herself down. She thought that the worst of the nightmares were over; she was wrong. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Elspeth ran her hands through her hair and reached for a band, scraping it back into a haphazard bun that kept it out of her face. She checked the clock and realised that it was early – early enough for Moriarty to still be there.

She was too awake to even attempt to go back to sleep, so Elspeth swung her legs over the side of the bed and reached for her hoodie, which she'd thrown on the ground last night.

"Bit early for you," Moriarty commented when Elspeth walked into the kitchen, her bare feet quiet against the floor. He looked at her closely while she made a cup of coffee, taking in her pale face and the way her hands trembled even though she tried to hide it. "Another nightmare?" Elspeth didn't respond, either ignoring Moriarty or too caught up in her own thoughts to hear him, and he frowned. "Ellie."

"Yeah – _ow_!" Elspeth hissed when she poured hot water on her hand rather than in the cup and Moriarty strode forwards, guiding her towards the sink. "I can manage," she grumbled.

"Says the girl who just poured boiling hot water on herself," Moriarty teased. He held Elspeth's wrist in one hand and turned on the tap with the other, holding her hand under the cool water. She flinched. "So . . . this nightmare."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"It helps."

"No, it really doesn't," Elspeth snapped, then felt guilty straight away. She muttered an apology. "I can do this on my own, you know. I don't need looking after." Elspeth avoided looking at Moriarty as she said that because all he seemed to be doing was looking after her and it was embarrassing; she wasn't a stupid kid. She winced again when she took her hand out from under the water.

"You're going to be fine," Moriarty assured her with a smirk.

Elspeth reached for the tea towel and wrapped it around the burn. The skin was tender but she didn't think it would blister, not badly at least. It was times like those, however, that made her wish she hadn't left 221B; John had always been there to look after her and Sherlock, and patch up any injuries that occurred.

"_Goddammit,_" Elspeth muttered, giving Moriarty a dark look over her shoulder. "This is so your fault."

"My fault?" Moriarty repeated, incredulous. "How is it my fault?"

"You – you made me jump. If you hadn't done that, I wouldn't have burned my hand, so this is your fault." There was a hint of a grin beginning to form of Elspeth's lips and Moriarty gazed back at her, astounded that she was teasing him, then grinned back at her. "Drawing's going to be hard," she murmured, looking away. "My entire future career is ruined – ruined I tell you!"

"Now you're just being silly," Moriarty told her. He strolled forwards and took her hand in his own, gently running his thumb along the tender skin. His touch was light, barely there, and Elspeth couldn't look away from him. "Do you want me to kiss it better?" Scowling, Elspeth tried to take her hand away but Moriarty held on, lifting it so he could press a kiss to the back of it, his lips lingering for a moment too long. "There. All better."

His lips were soft. Far softer than Elspeth expected them to be, and she stared up at him, her gaze caught with his. Moriarty's hand was holding hers, his thumb running over the burn, and he was so warm and so close; Elspeth could smell the expensive cologne he'd put on that morning. She wanted to close her eyes but Moriarty cupped her cheek with his other hand, his finger following the line of her cheekbone, and Elspeth couldn't do anything.

The front door opened, and Moriarty pulled away. Elspeth let out a shaky breath.

"Sebastian," Moriarty greeted in a cheerful tone. Behind him, Elspeth picked up the abandoned kettle and continued to make her coffee, her cheeks flushed, and Sebastian gave them both a sideways glance.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"_Well_," Moriarty began.

"No," Elspeth snapped adamantly, slamming the kettle down. Moriarty smirked, giving her a look over his shoulder, and she glared back at him with such hatred that Sebastian had to suppress the urge to laugh; it was amazing that Moriarty didn't recoil from the venom in Elspeth's gaze. When Moriarty and Sebastian didn't move, Elspeth pointedly added, "Don't you two have _work_ to do?"

"That's why I'm here," Sebastian said with a wide grin. "C'mon, Jim, duty calls."

"Don't you want to wish us a good day?" Moriarty asked Elspeth.

"Have a nice day killing people and ruining their lives," she spat. Sebastian couldn't stop himself from laughing at that, mumbling an excuse as he strode out of the room, and Moriarty put his hand under her chin, his grip tightening when Elspeth tried to pull away. She glared at him.

"Be good," he said to her. Elspeth grabbed hold of his wrist and pushed it away, not caring about the dark look that flashed in Moriarty's eyes; he pushed her back against the counter with a hand on her shoulder. Elspeth flinched. "_Don't _play games with me, Elspeth," Moriarty growled in a low voice. "You know you won't win, not with me."

That was the Moriarty Elspeth had been waiting for. The angry, unstable Moriarty who acted first and thought later, but she wasn't afraid. Instead, she raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to let go.

Moriarty took his hand away, inhaled deeply, and pinched Elspeth's chin between his thumb and forefinger as he repeated, "Be good."

Allowing her lips to twitch into a dry smirk, Elspeth said, "Have a nice day."

For a second, Elspeth thought that Moriarty wouldn't let go of her. She almost hoped that he would snap, shout at her, maybe even hit her, just so she could tell herself she was right; Moriarty wasn't human.

But he loosened his grip on her chin, smirked, and turned to walk away.

The door shut behind him with a click and Elspeth's smirk disappeared immediately as she let out a shaky sigh, rubbing her chin with her hand. Her hip ached.

"Shower," Elspeth said to herself. She knew that if she let herself wallow in self-pity in the kitchen all morning than she wouldn't escape from it, and that was the last thing Elspeth wanted. She needed to distract herself.

The shower was scorching hot and Elspeth sighed in contentment as she titled her head back, feeling her hair grow wet and heavy. One of her hands rested by her side, prodding the bruise starting to form on her hip from where she'd hit the counter after Moriarty pushed her. She'd always bruised easily.

She thought about the previous day, when Moriarty had been . . . she didn't know what the word was. Not nice. Moriarty was never nice; he was smart and cunning and Elspeth hated him for it.

Elspeth poked the bruise harder, making herself flinch, and rinsed the shampoo from her hair. When the water became too hot to bear, she turned the shower off, climbed out and grabbed hold of a towel. While she dried herself off and got dressed, she mused over Moriarty's words to her earlier that day; don't play games. She wanted to laugh because all Moriarty ever seemed to do was play games, and it was so hypocritical of him to suggest that she shouldn't do the same, but she didn't dare call him out on it.

She knocked her hip by accident as she wriggled into her jeans, and Elspeth let out a quiet, "_Ow._"

Tugging a brush through her damp hair, Elspeth scraped it back into a quick and messy bun and wandered out of the bathroom, humming to herself.

She'd been so occupied with her shower that she hadn't heard the door open, or footsteps wander through to the kitchen. It was only when Elspeth heard the kettle boiling that she stopped, standing in the doorway of her bedroom as she frowned, listening.

"Sebastian?" Elspeth called uncertainly. Only Moriarty and Sebastian had keys to the flat, but they were meant to be working. She bit her lip and grabbed the nearest pair of shoes, pulling them onto her bare feet as she wandered down the corridor to the kitchen. "Sebastian, is that you?"

Elspeth turned the corner, and froze.

"Hello again, Miss Holmes," Roscoe said with a pleasant smile. He was alone. "Hope you don't mind me popping in like this." Elspeth stared back at him, taking a small step backwards, but Roscoe slowly withdrew something from his pocket. A gun. "I wouldn't run, Miss Holmes, you won't get far."

Elspeth looked at the gun, saw that the safety was still on, and swallowed. "What do you want?"

"A lot of things. My money, for example, and to make you sorry for everything you've done," Roscoe said conversationally, still holding the gun. "So, you and I are going to go for a ride."

"Like Hell we are," Elspeth blurted out without thinking, crossing her arms.

"Miss Holmes, do you have much knowledge of guns? Because if I were to shoot you in the correct way, you would die a very slow and painful death, and if by some miracle you survived such a wound, you'd be left in a permanent state of vegetation," Roscoe said. "Unable to move and speak . . . I can't imagine anything worse, can you?"

Elspeth was silent, keeping her arms crossed as she hugged herself and gazed at up at Roscoe. He smirked. Her attempts not to look afraid were adorable.

Roscoe lifted the gun and Elspeth flinched without meaning to, her cheeks turning pink, shuffling past him when Roscoe when he gestured towards the front door with a jerk of his head. A small gasp escaped her lips when he pressed the barrel of the gun into the small of her back and Roscoe chuckled, clearly enjoying her fear and discomfort. He was going to make Elspeth Holmes pay, and he was going to savour every second of it.

* * *

><p>There wasn't one part of Elspeth's body that didn't hurt.<p>

She knew that making a smartarse remark about how original it was to take her to an old shipping container was a mistake the second Roscoe turned his eyes on her. It was huge, with only one door to get in and out of, and no one was around for miles; the shady owner who'd handed over the key scuttled away as fast as he could; he was obviously used to Roscoe's ways. Elspeth had the fortune of learning the hard way what he was truly capable of.

"All this –" Elspeth stopped to cough, spitting some blood onto the floor when the coppery taste filled her mouth, and her voice was hoarse when she continued, "Because of some _stupid deal_?"

Roscoe slapped Elspeth across the face – she'd lost count of how many times he'd done that – and if she hadn't been tied to a chair, she probably would've fallen over.

Elspeth had quickly discovered that Roscoe wasn't like Moriarty. He didn't mind getting his hands dirty; he'd sent his muscled bodyguards to wait outside while he dealt with Elspeth personally. Her stomach still ached from the hard punch she'd suffered, and she'd only just regained her breath completely. Elspeth looked a right state. Her nose and bottom lip were bleeding, her cheeks were red, and a large bruise was forming under her eye. Roscoe had taught her a lesson, good and proper.

"Is this how you get you kicks, then? Beating up teenage girls?"

The air was forced from Elspeth's lungs when Roscoe punched her a second time, and she doubled over, gasping for breath.

"I'd stop talking if I were you," Roscoe told her, breathless. He ran a hand through his blond hair.

"Why?" Elspeth choked out. "You're going to kill me no matter what I do." There were tears in her eyes and she couldn't stop them falling, each breath harder than the last. She groaned when Roscoe tangled his hand into her hair and yanked her head backwards, holding her there while he dialled a number on his phone. "What are you doing now?"

"Calling an old friend."

"Hello?"

Her eyes widened at the sound of Moriarty's voice but before Elspeth could yell out, Roscoe let go of her hair and slapped her again.

"Hear that, Moriarty? That's the sound of your _bitch_ in pain."

"Roscoe." Moriarty sounded calm but Elspeth could imagine him sitting up straighter, his jaw clenching. "I should've known you'd have something to do with this – imagine my surprise when I came home and found my guest missing!"

"Enough games," Roscoe snapped. "I want my money in the next hour or the girl dies."

Elspeth let out a squeak of fear but Moriarty said, "Let's not make empty threats, my dear, there's no point to them. Now be a good boy and let me talk to her."

"Go on," Roscoe prompted Elspeth, pulling her head up. "Talk."

"So I've kinda pissed him off more than we thought," Elspeth managed to say, her laughter weak.

"Are you alright?"

"Oh yeah, having the time of my life."

"Times up," Roscoe announced, cutting Moriarty off before he could reply to Elspeth's sarcasm. "Money. In full. One hour. Better get going." He ended the call and tucked the phone back into his pocket, turning his venomous gaze on Elspeth; she remembered being held captive by Shan all those years ago, sitting in front of a crossbow while John tried to convince them all that he was Sherlock Holmes. That was nothing compared to the fear she felt when Roscoe looked at her.

Things had been so much more simple back then, before Moriarty ever came into their lives. Elspeth wondered how things would've worked out if Moriarty hadn't started his twisted little game. Sherlock would still be alive, and they'd still live in 221B – or would they? Elspeth supposed that in any other life, she would've been preparing for University.

The thought made her sigh, ignoring the sideways glance Roscoe gave her. What she wouldn't give for a normal life.

"Do you always get this pissed when things don't go your way?" Elspeth asked him, breaking the silence that loomed over them. Roscoe's finger went to the trigger of his gun. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. You probably won't get your money if you kill me."

"What makes you think I'll kill you? I could just –"

"Hurt me and leave me in a vegetative state, I know, but you won't. It's like Moriarty said. Empty threats."

"Moriarty," Roscoe repeated, scoffing and shaking his head. "What, you don't even call him by his first name?"

"Why would I? I'm not his _bitch_, as you so nicely put it."

"I saw him with you yesterday –"

"Yeah, and that doesn't prove anything. Do you really think I'd sleep with the man who ruined my life? I'm not one of those sick women who writes to prisoners and shacks up with them when they get released, I'm _normal_ and I am _not_ sleeping with Jim Moriarty," Elspeth retorted. "If you're going to kill me, then you might as well get your facts straight."

She didn't know why she was getting so annoyed and defensive, but it shut Roscoe up and that was all Elspeth cared about.

Neither one spoke for a long time; Roscoe paced back and forth, getting more and more agitated as time went by, and Elspeth tried to distract herself from the pain. She took in a shallow breath, flinching when pain shot through her side, and wished that her head would stop pounding.

She'd never admit it to anyone, but Elspeth hoped that Moriarty would hurry up.

The sound of gunshot made Elspeth jump. "Sebastian," she said without thinking, flinching when Roscoe then pressed the gun to the side of her head.

Elspeth had never felt so relieved to see Jim Moriarty; the door opened and he stepped into the container with a look of disdain, his eyes lingering on Elspeth as he took in the injuries she'd sustained. She was bruised, bloody, and beaten up. She still had that fire in her eyes though, and it was directed straight at him even as Roscoe held a gun to her head. Moriarty's lips curled into the semblance of a smile.

"Outside," he said to Roscoe. "Now."

"I want –"

"Your money, yes, I know," Moriarty said, bored of Roscoe's repetitive demands. Ordinary people were so _boring_. "And you'll get it outside."

Roscoe looked suspicious, glancing down at Elspeth, then walked outside with Moriarty. Elspeth huffed, wriggling about in her restraints, but froze at the sound of another gunshot. Roscoe had a gun, but so did Sebastian; it was a matter of who was the fastest.

"I thought I told you to be good," Moriarty said to Elspeth, stepping into the container.

"I've been great," Elspeth said. "It's not my fault I got attacked."

Moriarty smirked, crouching by her and untying her. He stopped smirking when he saw that her wrists were red and raw from rope burn, straightening up to help Elspeth out of the chair. The last thing she wanted was to depend on Moriarty for support but she couldn't stand up on her own, clinging to his arms with as much strength as she could muster.

"Are you alright?" Moriarty asked Elspeth, holding her up.

"Yeah, I'm great," Elspeth said sarcastically. "Can't you see how happy I am right now?" she plastered on a fake smile and the cut on her lip looked even worse, her face appearing ghoulish in the dim light, and she flinched when Moriarty wiped some blood off her chin.

Thinking about the scene outside, Moriarty frowned. "Do you trust me?"

"You know I don't."

"Close your eyes." Elspeth gave Moriarty a suspicious look and he gazed back at her with such a solemn expression that she did as he told her to, reluctantly closing her eyes. "Trust me."

Elspeth let Moriarty guide her. His hand was warm against hers and he coaxed her forwards in a gentle voice, never once letting her fall or falter. It was a complete difference from that morning but she tried not to dwell on that, feeling Moriarty help her into the front seat of his car, and she leaned back with a tired sigh. Her whole body ached.

"You can open your eyes now," Moriarty told her.

"I know," Elspeth whispered. She just didn't know if she wanted to.

* * *

><p>Elspeth looked even worse under the light of the kitchen, trembling uncontrollably. She felt sore in ways that she didn't like to think about it and she felt almost felt like she was sleepwalking, stuck in a daze while Moriarty walked through to the bathroom to get the antiseptic. She'd changed into a small tank top so he could clean all the cuts and bruises Roscoe had given her.<p>

Roscoe was dead. The last gunshot had been for him. Elspeth didn't know how she felt about that.

"Let's get you cleaned up," Moriarty said, softly so he didn't startle her. Elspeth was sitting on the counter and when he approached her, Moriarty was eye level with her; the vacant look in her eyes worried him. "Do you want a drink?"

After a few seconds of thought, Elspeth nodded. Moriarty poured her a glass of water but her hands shook so much that she sloshed it down her front, and both of them pretended not to notice.

Moriarty was uncharacteristically gentle with Elspeth, dabbing at her cuts with cotton buds covered in antiseptic and taking extra care with her swollen lip, cleaning all the blood away. She looked better once the blood was gone. There was a bruise under her eye, which Moriarty could do nothing about, and she barely blinked when he brushed his thumb against it.

Lowering his hand, Moriarty touched the bruises on Elspeth's neck as well, then pushed the strap of her tank top aside slightly so he could inspect the scratches there. They were only shallow; he didn't need to attend to them. His eyes went to her other shoulder, where the gunshot wound had been, and Moriarty could see the scar there.

Elspeth realised where Moriarty's eyes had landed, and she looked down, feeling self-conscious. She wrapped her arms around herself with her hand covering the scar.

"It's hideous," she murmured. "I know."

"Nothing about you is hideous," Moriarty told her. Elspeth gazed back at him for a few seconds, her eyes devoid of any emotion, and he was reminded of when he first brought her to his office with that blank expression. He waited for some kind of response. He didn't receive a verbal one, but Elspeth did slowly unwrap her arms from around herself, taking her hand away from her shoulder. "Where else did he hurt you?"

She didn't hesitate that time. Her hands went to the bottom of her tank top and Elspeth rolled it up, showing Moriarty the dark bruises forming across her abdomen.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Elspeth lied with a small laugh, which she instantly regretted. "Ok, it is kinda bad, but there's nothing you can do."

"I can get you some ice," Moriarty offered. Elspeth nodded, sliding down from the counter and walking through to the living room so she could sprawl across one of the sofas, her head propped up against a couple of cushions. She thanked him quietly when Moriarty handed her some ice wrapped up in a tea towel, pressing it against the worse of her bruises.

"So Roscoe is dead."

It was a statement, not a question, but Moriarty responded anyway. "Yep. Does that bother you?"

Elspeth shifted in her seat, moved the ice, and pressed her lips together. "I don't know," she admitted. "It bothers me that he's _dead_, but it also kind of . . . _doesn't_." She looked over at Moriarty, who was sitting on the other sofa and watching her. "Does that make me a bad person?"

"Would it make you feel better if I said no?"

"I don't know," Elspeth repeated with a shaky laugh, tears welling up in her eyes. "Oh God, I'm such a mess." She sat up, running her hands through her hair and wiping away the tears, which only made her cry even more for some reason. The sofa dipped and Elspeth felt arms around her, sobbing and struggling against Moriarty's grip, trying to push him off. Moriarty held on, though, and eventually Elspeth stopped resisting. She let Moriarty hold her close, burying her face into his chest while she sobbed, and he ran his fingers through her hair while murmuring comforting words; Elspeth squeezed her eyes shut, pretending it was someone else.

She couldn't bear to think that she was accepting comfort from Jim Moriarty.

Elspeth cried for a long time, shaking, clawing at Moriarty's sleeves so she could hold onto him because if she didn't, she felt like she might fall off the sofa. She was sad and angry and confused all at once, and her whole body hurt, and another man was dead because of _her_; if she hadn't been such an idiot when Sherlock died, none of it would've happened.

The sobs subsided and Elspeth felt herself slumping, utterly defeated in Moriarty's arms. She cried in silence, her head resting on Moriarty's lap while he stroked her hair, and he gazed down at her with a pitying expression. He hadn't meant for this to happen. He always thought that Elspeth was stronger than that.

Despite all the careful and precise planning that went into his work, Moriarty rarely thought of consequences. He didn't know about the hearts he had broken or the lives he'd ruined, or how Sherlock and John and Elspeth still had nightmares about their experiences that night at the pool. He sometimes forget that Elspeth was so young and that it was a lot for her to go through, and Moriarty felt so sorry for her in that moment.

Moriarty didn't see Elspeth as a pawn in his game, or as a means to get to Sherlock. He saw who she was – a scared, vulnerable, hurt girl trying to make sense of her messy life.

Sebastian found them later that evening; Moriarty was still on the sofa, and Elspeth had fallen asleep with her head on his lap. He'd put a cushion beneath her head so she was comfortable, absent mindedly stroking her hair when Sebastian walked forwards, perching on the other sofa.

"What's going on?" Sebastian asked warily, his eyes flickering between Moriarty and Elspeth.

"She's resting," Moriarty murmured. His hand was still for a second. "She needs it after today." Nodding, Sebastian leaned forwards. He was about to ask a question when Moriarty spoke again. "I didn't take advantage, Seb, if that's what you're worried about."

"It's not like you haven't done it before."

Moriarty's eyes flashed up to meet Sebastian's, dark and disapproving, but he wasn't afraid. He was merely confused by Moriarty's sudden change in character.

He looked down at Elspeth, who was pale and shivering, and Sebastian allowed his eyes to roam over the injuries Roscoe had inflicted on her. His jaw clenched. If he was getting agitated thinking about someone laying their hands on Elspeth like that, then he couldn't have imagined how Moriarty felt; they'd both grown strangely protective of her, despite everything.

"This is different," Moriarty said quietly as he resumed stroking Elspeth's hair, tucking it behind her ear.

"I told you we shouldn't have ever got involved."

"It's too late now, Sebastian," Moriarty sung in that ridiculous high pitched voice. Elspeth shifted in her sleep, her eyebrows pulling together when she frowned. "We can't just release her back into the wild. She's housetrained now."

Sebastian's lips twitched. "She isn't a house pet, Jim, she's a girl."

"I know, I know, and that's what has made it so much more interesting, wouldn't you say?" Moriarty flashed Sebastian a grin that reminded the sniper of a shark. "She wouldn't survive a day on her own out there now."

"She's done it before," Sebastian pointed out. "She could probably do it again."

"We're not getting rid of her, Sebastian. Not now. Not ever."

There was a dark underlying threat in Moriarty's words, and the look in his eyes was daring Sebastian to challenge him. That was what attracted Moriarty to Sebastian in the first place. He hadn't been afraid to speak up and disagree, so unlike those snivelling idiots who agreed with every one of Moriarty's words so he wouldn't get mad at them.

Moriarty despised ordinary people.

Sebastian frowned. Elspeth had gone a month without trouble – or so she claimed. There were only so many people she could piss off before trouble found its way into her life, as it so often did, and Moriarty and Sebastian knew more about her month alone than they cared to let on.

"Do you love her?"

"Don't be so ridiculous," Moriarty scoffed, glaring at Sebastian.

He shrugged. "I'm not, I'm just asking – I've never seen you get so . . . _protective _over someone before. It's weird."

"I don't like what's mine getting damaged. It makes things particularly _awkward_."

"She isn't yours, though," Sebastian pointed out, his brow furrowing as he pulled an adorably ignorant face – or that was how it looked to Moriarty. Sebastian Moran wasn't an idiot, far from it, but sometimes he said things that made Moriarty laugh. "Jim, she's a person. She's a _kid_."

"She's adorable," Moriarty said with a fond smile at Elspeth, who was still fast asleep. He stroked her cheek, his thumb brushing against the bruise under her eye, making her twitch in her sleep. She shifted away from Moriarty's touch with a quiet noise of discomfort, her arms tightening around herself, and he smiled again. "Wouldn't you agree, Tiger?"

Sebastian sighed. He decided there was no point in trying to get through to Moriarty about Elspeth because he wouldn't listen.

"You don't love – so, what? Why are you protecting her? Why have you got this weird obsession with her?"

He wasn't being insolent; Sebastian genuinely wanted to know why Moriarty was so completely and utterly fascinated by this one girl. He could just about understand Moriarty's obsession with Sherlock. The detective was intelligent and cunning and knew how to play the criminal at his own game, but Elspeth – in Sebastian's opinion – really wasn't that special. She was smart, but emotional and sensitive and thoughtful, everything that Moriarty wasn't.

Maybe that was it. Maybe Moriarty was drawn to the humanity Elspeth displayed because he was – what was the word? Psychopath seemed like too harsh a word to Sebastian, but Moriarty was always so cruel and cold. He and Elspeth were completely different.

Or so Sebastian thought.

Moriarty looked thoughtful, gazing down at Elspeth while he considered Sebastian's question. At first he'd just been using her to get to Sherlock – the easiest way to a parent was through their child, after all – but Elspeth was different. She'd captured his attention in a way that Moriarty's attention hadn't been captured before.

He stroked her hair, thinking about how angry he'd been when he knew that Roscoe had her. He was furious when he thought of Roscoe _hurting_ her. It was hypocritical of Moriarty to feel that way, he knew, but he couldn't explain it.

Sebastian watched Moriarty carefully, trying to gauge his reaction.

"Because," Moriarty finally said, tearing his eyes from Elspeth and looking across the room at Sebastian. "My world would be so _boring_ without Ellie Holmes in it."

* * *

><p><em>Thank you tardislover1, Deductions-of-Sherlolly, Adrillian1497 and little101 for reviewing! <em>

_Sorry for the wait; Uni is a lot of work, but I absolutely love it! _


	6. Chapter 6

_**6.**_

Elspeth knew she wasn't alone in the flat when she woke up to the sound of Moriarty's voice. He was on the phone, making an obvious effort to keep his voice down even though he was getting more and more agitated as the conversation went on, and when Elspeth slowly sat up from her spot on the sofa, she could see he was in the kitchen.

It was difficult not to laugh at Moriarty. As intimidating as he sounded, he looked like he'd just woken up; he had a serious case of bed head and all Moriarty wore were a pair of pyjama trousers.

Gazing at him, Elspeth wondered if Moriarty realised how hot he looked. She then wondered what was wrong with her.

"Just do your job and stop wasting my time," Moriarty snapped down the phone, turning around to see that Elspeth was awake. She tore her eyes from him and looked down at the blanket that had been thrown over her, playing with the edge while thinking back to the previous night. Moriarty's voice brought her out of her daydream. "You're awake."

"Yep," Elspeth said. She glanced over at Moriarty. "And you're half naked."

Moriarty smirked. "Does it bother you?" he asked teasingly. Elspeth didn't respond. "Want some breakfast?"

"I don't think I'm hungry."

Strolling forwards, Moriarty put a cup of tea down on the coaster on the coffee table, and Elspeth thanked him, taking a sip. She scrunched her nose up. "The extra sugar is for shock," he told her with a grin.

"It's disgusting," Elspeth said. She put the cup down next to the coaster and Moriarty frowned. "What?"

"The coaster is right there," he said. Elspeth raised her eyebrows. "I'm just saying." Moriarty relaxed a little more when Elspeth placed the cup on the coaster, leaning back in his seat while he gazed at her. The bruises looked even worse in the morning light, which Elspeth was blissfully ignorant of at that point in time, and the scratches had reddened overnight. She'd looked as if she had been in a fight – and lost. "So," Moriarty drawled. "What do you want to do today? We've got the _whole_ day together."

Blinking, Elspeth stammered, "You're – you're staying here?"

"Well _yeah_, I want to spend the day with my special girl."

Elspeth decided to ignore the pet name. "I don't want to do anything today," she said. "I just want to lie in bed, curl up in a ball and not wake up for another year."

"No, no, no. That's exactly what we're _not_ going to do, we are not going to sit around and feel sorry for ourselves."

"I look terrible," Elspeth said. "And I feel even worse. If I take one step out of that door, everyone's going to see me and they're going to stare and they're all going to _know_ –" Elspeth cut herself off when she felt tears threatening to make an appearance, shaking her head and running a hand through her unruly hair. "I don't think I can do it."

Moriarty stared back at Elspeth for a few seconds. "Get dressed," he said to her.

"Did you not hear what I just said?"

"Yep, but I'm choosing to ignore you. Get up and get dressed." Elspeth didn't move, glaring at Moriarty with a stubborn frown, and he stood up. "Come on, Ellie, don't make me repeat myself."

Elspeth reluctantly rose to her feet, brushing past Moriarty as she walked through to her bedroom. She didn't know what Moriarty was up to or what he was planning, and though she really didn't care to find out, Elspeth decided it was best to just go along with it. She got dressed, shimmying into a pair of jeans and pulling a t-shirt on over her head, striding out of her room with a jumper in her hand.

Turning the corner, Elspeth nearly walked straight into Moriarty. His hands on her arms kept her steady but she didn't notice as she stared at him, biting her lip and trying not to laugh.

"You're wearing jeans," Elspeth pointed out with a wide grin. Moriarty slowly took his hands away and looked down at his clothes, wondering what was so amusing to her. He'd worn jeans before; when he was posing at Jim from IT, he had worn jeans and a plain t-shirt, not unlike the ones he was wearing now.

"I'm wearing jeans," he agreed. "What's so funny about that?"

Elspeth giggled. "Nothing. They – um . . . they look good, they suit you." Moriarty watched in amusement while Elspeth tried to compose herself. "So where are we going?"

"You'll see."

* * *

><p>The wind was blowing in Elspeth's hair while Moriarty sped down the empty road, music blasting out of the radio speakers. Humming, Moriarty glanced over at her, feeling something akin to relief when he saw the faint smile she wore. He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear.<p>

"Both hands on the wheel, please," Elspeth murmured, her voice barely audible over the music.

Moriarty smirked, pushing the accelerator down even more. "Am I scaring you?" he shouted over the music and wind, noticing Elspeth's cheeks turn pink. She gripped the edge of her seat. "Should I go faster?"

"No. _No_!" Elspeth laughed when the car sped up, Moriarty pushing it to its limits, and felt herself being pushed back into her seat. Adrenaline coursed through her and she screamed and laughed at the same time, her hair whipping in the wind while her eyes stung so much she could feel them watering. Moriarty's grin was so wide that Elspeth could see his teeth and she didn't think as she grabbed hold of his hand, clinging to him because if she let go, she felt like she might fall out of her seat.

When the car slowed down to a stop, Elspeth let go of Moriarty's hand as quickly as she had grabbed it and punched him in the arm. "You're a bloody psychopath, you know that?"

"And you pack a hard punch," Moriarty replied. His hand felt empty without hers and he clenched his fist to try and distract himself, taking the key from the ignition. Elspeth's cheeks were pink. "Come on. We've got lots to do today." He got out of the car but Elspeth stayed in her seat, gazing out of the window with a bemused frown, and Moriarty opened the door again, poking his head inside. "Come on," he repeated impatiently.

"Why?" Elspeth asked. "Where are we going?"

"Come with me and you'll find out!"

Moriarty was like an excitable child and Elspeth found it hard to say no to him, climbing out of the car; her stomach twisted with trepidation. Brushing her hair behind her ears, Elspeth looked around at the empty car park, giving Moriarty a thoroughly unimpressed frown. He wasn't looking at her for once, though, but over her shoulder, and Elspeth turned around to see what he was gazing at with such a smug grin.

"You brought me to the beach," Elspeth blurted out, stating the obvious, and Moriarty smirked to himself as she gazed out at the sea in front of her. It had been a long time since she'd been to the beach, and Elspeth couldn't stop herself from taking a few steps forwards, her hands resting on the fence that separated the open car park from the sand. She could feel the wind in her hair, smell the unmistakable scent of salt, hear the seagulls cawing above her . . . it was just how Elspeth remembered a beach to be. In the distance, she could see a cluster of rock pools.

The sky was clear and it was a warm day, but the beach was nearly empty. There was a couple walking their dog in the distance, but they were so far away that they were barely specks on the horizon. It must've been a week day, when everyone was at work and school, or the beach was so secluded that not a lot of people knew it was there.

She knew that Moriarty wouldn't hurt her, not now, but still Elspeth hoped it wasn't the latter reason. She still had a bruise on her hip.

"You just going to stand there?" Moriarty teased, brushing against her as he strolled past. Elspeth turned to him with an excited shine in her eyes, the most animated he had ever seen her.

There was a small, sandy hill on the other side of the fence. Moriarty walked down first, turning to offer his hand to Elspeth. She hesitated for a moment, then put her palm in his, giggling when she slid down the smooth surface and stumbled to a clumsy stop in front of him, nearly colliding with Moriarty.

Her giggles subsiding, Elspeth craned her neck back a little so she could look Moriarty in the eyes. His own eyes flickered over her face, taking in her features – they lingered a second longer on Elspeth's lips – before meeting hers, and Elspeth was taken aback by the intensity in his dark gaze. She gave him a nervous, embarrassed grin and let go of his hand, ducking her head as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Um –" Elspeth inwardly cringed, but Moriarty looked patient. "Thanks," she settled on with an awkward laugh, taking a step back and sweeping her eyes over the landscape because she wanted to look anywhere other than at him. An idea sprung to her mind and before she could stop herself, Elspeth blurted, "Last one to the sea is a loser!"

Moriarty watched in amusement as Elspeth stripped off her shoes and socks, racing across the beach, and realised a second too late that she was being serious. He considered himself too mature and too dignified to engage in such childish behaviour, but Elspeth stopped at the end of the shore to roll her jeans up, turning and giving Moriarty such a bright smile that he felt compelled to join her.

Leaving his shoes and socks next to hers, Moriarty joined Elspeth. She was jumping up and down, trying to leap over the waves as they rolled towards her.

"I won," she announced, sticking her tongue out at him and kicking the water in his direction.

"You cheated."

Her eyes wide, Elspeth stared back at Moriarty. "Are you telling me that you, Jim Moriarty, worlds only consulting criminal, has a problem with people _cheating_?" she teased.

"I may be a consulting criminal, but I do have _some_ honour," Moriarty retorted. He'd rolled his jeans up and stepped into the sea, trying not to flinch when the water froze his feet. "And I don't appreciate cheating." He kicked water in Elspeth's direction in retaliation and she squealed, crouching to splash him. "Oh, I see how it is."

Somehow Moriarty and Elspeth reverted back to their childish ways, splashing and chasing each other in the water. A passing dog walker glanced their way and smiled at how young and carefree they appeared. Elspeth's squeals echoed when Moriarty swept her into her arms, lifting her up so he could hold her dangerously close to the water, threatening to drop her at any time. She clung to him, laughing, begging for him not to throw her in the sea, and Moriarty's laughter mingled with hers. One arm was hooked under her legs and the other wrapped around her waist, holding her securely, but it was fun to tease Elspeth, make her laugh.

"No, no, no!" Elspeth laughed, hooking her arms around his neck so if he dropped her, Moriarty would fall down as well. "Jim, stop it!"

Smirking, Moriarty lowered Elspeth to her feet. "You've never called me _that_ before."

Elspeth gave him a blank stare. "What?" she asked, then realised. "Oh! I thought we sort of past the stage where I call you Moriarty, didn't you? Besides," Elspeth added with a small grin. "You've been calling me Ellie since we met."

"Would you prefer it if I called you _Holmes_?"

"Do that and I'll punch you."

Moriarty believed her, thinking back to their first meeting; he'd been posing as Jim from IT, Molly's office romance boyfriend, sitting in her office when Elspeth knocked on the door. He remembered thinking that she was very pretty, but he'd also realised there was another way to get to Sherlock. In any other world, Moriarty mused, things would've been easier for him and Elspeth. If he wasn't a consulting criminal, if she wasn't Sherlock's daughter, if they had met under different circumstances, things would've been different.

None of that was an issue for Moriarty; if he wanted something, then he took it. Elspeth, however, had the tendency to overthink. She was far more wary than Moriarty was and she'd been hurt in the past, and she'd only just started to trust him. So he had to careful what he said and did.

"I'd like to see you try," Moriarty murmured. Elspeth laughed, flexed her hand, and grimaced.

"Yeah, I think my punching days are over," she said. "I just like to scare people."

"Because you're absolutely terrifying, aren't you?"

Elspeth smiled. She had been terrifying when she was driven by her hatred and revenge, but now she was back to her old self, and Elspeth didn't know if she could say boo to a goose. "Come on," she said quietly. "I want to look at those rock pools."

Moriarty watched her walk away with an appreciative smile, then joined her. "When was the last time you went to the beach?" he asked. Elspeth gave him a dubious look. "Just asking."

"I can't remember," she admitted. "Dad was never the type to plan days out and it was almost impossible to organise stuff with my friends at college, and one day, I just picked up my sketchbook and hopped on the first train out of London." Elspeth smiled to herself wistfully and crouched by one of the rock pools, running her finger along the water's surface. "It was one of the best days of my life because I could sit and sketch, and when I got back, it was like I'd never even gone."

"What do you mean?"

Shrugging, Elspeth sighed and said, "No one noticed I'd left, not even Dad. It was one of _those_ things . . . it really pissed me off that he was so wrapped up in his own world and I tried to forgive him, I honestly did, but I never could. Not completely."

"All seems a bit trivial now," Moriarty commented. Elspeth nodded and gave him a small smile, as if pleased that he could show some semblance of understanding, then turned away to pick up a small crab that was struggling to make its way across the rocks. Moriarty watched her gently handle it, holding it so the crab couldn't pinch her and placing it on a smoother surface that was easier to walk on. "You're too kind sometimes."

"Really?" Elspeth retorted, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she raised her eyebrows at him. "Are you _really_ saying that? To _me_? The girl who put a load of your clients and network in prison?"

"Technically the _police_ did that –" Moriarty gasped in shock when Elspeth hit on the arm. "Did you just punch me?"

"You weren't taking me seriously."

"I always take you seriously."

Elspeth snorted. She didn't want to go back to who she was after Sherlock's death; she _hated_ herself for becoming so bitter and twisted, and Elspeth was even a little afraid when she thought about how angry she'd been. She didn't want people to think that she couldn't stand up for herself or take care of herself, though.

"Who's to say I'm _too nice_ anyway? Maybe you're not nice enough," Elspeth suggested.

"Don't be absurd, Ellie, I'm not nice at all."

"I wouldn't say that." That took Moriarty by surprise, and he turned his head to meet her earnest gaze with a confused frown. Elspeth elaborated, "Well, you haven't killed me even though I gave you plenty of reason to, and you didn't let Roscoe kill me. You've given me a roof over my head, a bed, food – I'd say that's pretty decent, all things considered."

"I don't want to alarm you, my dear, but you're beginning to sound fond of me."

"Don't flatter yourself."

Moriarty laughed. "It's hard not when only a few days ago, you told me you hated me."

Her cheeks turning red, Elspeth ducked her head and stared at her reflection in the water. She barely recognised herself past the scratches and bruises; she couldn't stop herself from slapping the sea, watching ripples spread across the rock pool.

"I didn't mean it," Elspeth whispered. "At least . . . I don't know if I did. I was angry." And Moriarty was confusing to her. She wanted to hate him for all he had done, but then he'd act kind and normal and _human_, and it was hard to feel angry at someone who saved her time and time again without expecting anything in return. "I don't hate you."

"Good."

His voice was so soft and sincere that it made Elspeth lift her head, once again caught under his intense gaze. Moriarty frowned back at her.

"Are you afraid of me, Ellie?" he asked.

Elspeth didn't hesitate. "Yeah."

"I don't want you to be."

"I know," Elspeth murmured. She didn't look away from him and Moriarty could feel the weight in her words, watching her stop briefly to consider what she was going to say to him next. "But what you . . . what you _did_ . . ." Elspeth swallowed past the lump in her throat, closing her eyes when she felt tears welling. "Not just to me, but to Dad and John and all those innocent people – that old lady, those people in the flat . . . you destroyed lives, Jim, and I don't know how you can live with that because I still have nightmares, and that's why it's so hard not to be afraid of you."

Moriarty considered Elspeth's words in silence. She opened his eyes to a whole new perspective and perhaps it was because she sounded so sad and forlorn that he felt guilty.

"I'm sorry."

It took Elspeth a few seconds to comprehend what Moriarty had said to her, and when she finally did, she stared at him with wide eyes. He didn't look back at her. Instead, Moriarty determinedly avoided her gaze, looking ahead of himself while she studied his profile, amazed that he'd been genuine when he apologised. Without thinking, Elspeth reached out and held one of Moriarty's hands in her own, their fingers interweaving as their palms pressed together.

"Thank you," Elspeth said under her breath. Moriarty gave her a questioning look and she smiled. "I think that's all I needed to hear, so thank you."

They didn't speak for a long time after that.

* * *

><p>The fish and chip shop was crowded and cramped, and Elspeth found herself pressed between the wall and Moriarty as they sat at the one of the last tables that was free. He was close, intimately so, and she could feel his arm brush against hers when he reached for the menu. She laughed.<p>

"It's a chippy, not a five star restaurant."

"I like to keep an open mind," Moriarty replied with a grin, making Elspeth laugh again. She had to lean against him in order to read the menu as well. He raised his arm, draping it over the back of her chair so – to the other customers – it looked as if he was casually embracing her. "Order what you like, love, I'm paying."

"How very chivalrous of you," Elspeth remarked. She plucked the menu from his hands and leaned away, but Moriarty didn't move his arm. He reached up and started to play with her hair, laughing when she pushed his hand away. "Stop that."

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I distracting you?"

"Yeah, so stop it," Elspeth grumbled.

Moriarty ran his fingers through the ends of Elspeth's hair, catching her hand when she tried to stop him. Elspeth's cheeks burned when he kissed the back of her hand.

"Play nice now, my dear," he warned. "I would so hate to ruin a perfect day, wouldn't you?"

"I wouldn't call it perfect."

Elspeth didn't pull her hand away, though, and Moriarty didn't let go, running his thumb along her knuckles in an absent minded manner while he looked at the menu over her shoulder. His breath tickled the back of her neck. He only looked away when their waitress, a girl not much older than Elspeth, arrived; Moriarty ordered in a quiet, authoritative voice that Elspeth knew all too well. Her hand fidgeted in his, and she was hyper aware that the waitress' eyes kept flickering towards her.

"She thinks you're beating me up," Elspeth said under her breath when the waitress walked away.

"What makes you say that?"

"It was written all over her face. Plus, young girl with bruises all over her face sitting with a guy old enough to be her father –"

"Watch it," Moriarty warned in a low voice.

"Sitting with a guy who is slightly older," Elspeth corrected. "looks a bit . . . dodgy, you know what I mean?"

"You're overthinking things."

Elspeth gave him a sideways glance and took her hand from his, leaning as far back as she could manage in such limited space. She looked around the small restaurant and focused her gaze on a couple not so far from her and Moriarty, her lips twitching into a smirk as she said, "See that man over there? He's having an affair."

Moriarty, pretending he wasn't peeved she'd moved her hand so abruptly, glanced over. "How do you know?"

"It's easy – look as his body language. He's leaning really far away from her, his fists are clenched, and he can barely stand to be in her company. His phone is on silent, which is why he keeps checking it when she's not looking, and that's only so she won't ask whose texting him. She doesn't know, poor cow," Elspeth ended with a sympathetic grimace, but Moriarty grinned, gazing at her. "It's really simple once you know what you're looking for."

"Who taught you that?"

"Mostly Dad, but sometimes Mycroft when we were bored. He had to pass the time babysitting me _somehow_."

Moriarty smirked at the thought of Mycroft looking after a young Elspeth. His nickname for the oldest Holmes was well deserved, in Moriarty's opinion. He didn't say so; he didn't want to upset or offend Elspeth. The thought was rather strange. It had been a long time since Moriarty stopped himself from hurting other people intentionally.

"I do believe it's your turn to take _me_ out next time," he murmured instead, a lazy grin spreading across his face when Elspeth looked at him, startled by the proposition.

"I didn't realise I was obligated to," she retorted. "We're not _dating_, after all."

"Who said this was a date?"

There was a gleam in Moriarty's eyes and Elspeth stared back at him for a few seconds before glowering. "You are so annoying," she told him, cheering up slightly when the waitress returned with their food. "You know what I meant."

Moriarty picked up a chip and bit into it. "There's no need to beat around the bush, Ellie, I know you fancy me," he said. "I mean, I am irresistible, after all."

"Do you really lack so much confidence that you have to give yourself an hourly ego boost?"

"Ellie, you'll hurt my feelings if you say stuff like that." Moriarty sounded offended but his eyes were too wide, giving his shocked expression a comical edge, and Elspeth snorted as she shook her head. "We've been having such a nice time, I thought we were friends now."

Elspeth couldn't imagine Moriarty having friends. If she hadn't seen it first hand, she wouldn't have thought that his and Sebastian's friendship was genuine; there was no faking the way they acted around each other though. Stabbing a chip with her fork, Elspeth wondered how long Moriarty and Sebastian had known each other, how they'd met, when they decided to work together . . . there were a lot of questions that Elspeth planned on asking Sebastian. He was less likely to tease her.

They ate in comfortable silence. Moriarty watched Elspeth while she looked around the restaurant, making silent deductions in her mind. His arm was on the back of her chair, fingers drumming against it, and it felt comfortable to Elspeth. Safe. She realised that she should've minded that Moriarty had his arm around her but she didn't.

"What are you thinking about?" Moriarty asked Elspeth, who blinked at him in surprise. "You get this little look in your eyes when you're thinking."

"What are you talking about?"

"I know you, Ellie," Moriarty sung quietly, under his breath so other people wouldn't hear. "I know you better than you think. I know when you're _happy_, I know when you're _sad_, I know when you're _thinking_ . . ." his voice trailed off and he gazed at Elspeth expectantly, waiting for her to say something, but she just shook her head in silence and turned away.

* * *

><p>Sebastian was there when Moriarty and Elspeth arrived home that evening, his eyes narrowing. "I was wondering where you two had gone," he said casually. "I'm making dinner if you two want some."<p>

"Give me time to shower, Tiger," Moriarty called, wandering through to the bathroom.

"Come on," Sebastian said to Elspeth. "You can make yourself useful and chop some veg up for me." He gestured towards the small pile on the counter and Elspeth smiled as she took off her jacket, flinging it over the back of a chair. She took the knife from Sebastian. "So, where did you two go today?"

"Oh, just to the beach," Elspeth said casually. Sebastian frowned, looking at her sideways. As far as he knew, Moriarty didn't like the beach. But no angry words had been exchanged and they hadn't been giving each other angry, sideways glances, and Elspeth looked as if she hadn't cried that day, so perhaps the trip had been good for them both.

His mind wandered to the conversation he'd had the previous night with Moriarty. "You and Jim," Sebastian began with a hint of trepidation in his voice.

"Me and Jim," Elspeth repeated. She put down the knife and looked up at Sebastian.

"What's going on with you two? It's like you've got some weird connection. I've never seen Jim act like this around someone before – when he wants something, or some_one_, he goes out and he gets it." Sebastian frowned and shook his head, pausing to look over at Elspeth, who was watching him with a frown of her own. "Jim doesn't look after people, or protect them, or _care_ about anyone."

Elspeth bit her lip, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she folded her arms, hugging herself. She couldn't wrap her head around it. "Today – today wasn't a _date_," she choked out. "It wasn't even anything special, it was just a day out because of what happened."

"That doesn't strike you as odd at all? This is Jim Moriarty we're talking about."

"You know him better than I do," Elspeth pointed out.

"Exactly, and I know it's weird."

Running a hand through her hair, Elspeth leaned against the counter and considered everything that happened that day. It had been a nice day out, she supposed, and when she thought over Sebastian's words, she realised that was odd. Moriarty's apology stuck in her mind. She'd thought about his apology all day because she'd hated him for years, and after those two simple words – _I'm sorry_ – it felt like it was all over. Elspeth didn't know if she could forgive and forget, but she could at least try.

"Has . . ." her voice trailed off uncertainly as she bit her lip. "Has Jim ever . . . apologised to anyone before? As in, properly apologised and meant it?"

"Not that I know of. Why?"

"Because he apologised to me today," Elspeth murmured, the words sounding strange even as she said them. Sebastian stared at her for a few seconds, so shocked that he was rendered speechless, and Elspeth gazed back at him, her eyebrows pulling together. Both of them knew that Moriarty didn't apologise.

Elspeth remembered how she had held Moriarty's hand on the beach, and how natural it had felt to reach out and took his hand in her own.

Sebastian was thinking about his conversation with Moriarty again, and Moriarty's words – "_my world would be so _boring_ without Ellie Holmes in it." _That was practically a confession of love coming from Moriarty, in Sebastian's opinion, and it worried the sniper to consider the possibility; Elspeth was still so young and vulnerable, easy to take advantage of. Would Moriarty know if he was taking advantage? Would he listen to Elspeth if she told him no? Sebastian didn't know.

Her hand shook as Elspeth reached for the knife again, and she was about to pick it up when Sebastian covered her hand with his own, stopping her.

"You're going to chop one of your fingers off," he joked. Elspeth didn't smile.

The sound of water running stopped, and Moriarty wandered through to the kitchen to check on Sebastian and Elspeth. She glanced his way, blushing when she realised he was shirtless for the second time that day, his hair a damp mess. After her conversation with Sebastian, Elspeth found it hard to look Moriarty in the eyes.

"Everything alright? You two aren't flirting, are you?" Moriarty teased them both, grinning when he saw how uneasy Elspeth appeared. She tightened her arms around herself.

"Wouldn't dream of it, boss," Sebastian assured him.

Seemingly appeased with the sniper's answer, Moriarty turned and left to put a shirt on. Elspeth watched his retreating back.

"What were you trying to say, Sebastian?" she asked, her voice so quiet that it was barely audible over the noise in the kitchen. "What was with all the questions? Because there is absolutely _nothing_ going on between Jim and I, if that's what you're worried about, and –"

"Maybe not for you," Sebastian muttered. It took Elspeth by surprise and she stopped, trying to get her head around what he meant. There wasn't anything between them. Moriarty had apologised and Elspeth admitted to him that she didn't really hate him, but that didn't _mean_ anything because at the end of the day, they were just words.

Sebastian regretted his words, however, the second he uttered them. He didn't mean to scare Elspeth, but now she was staring up at him with those wide eyes of hers, clearly confused and even a little bit scared. He sighed. He'd messed up.

"What do you mean?"

Elspeth's voice was barely a whisper. Sebastian shook his head. "Look, Ellie, I didn't mean anything, just ignore me."

"What do you mean?" Elspeth repeated with slightly more force to her voice, her heart racing against her chest as she unwrapped her arms from around herself, letting them hang by her sides. Her hands shook so much that she clenched them into fists and Sebastian struggled to meet her eyes, feeling guilty that he had put them both in such an uncomfortable situation. Moriarty would kill him if he knew what Sebastian was saying.

"Look, Ellie, ignore me if you want but . . ." Sebastian's voice trailed away uncomfortably. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I think Jim is in love with you."

* * *

><p><em>Thank you little101, Adrillian1497, That-Crazy-Psycho, Kids Love The Devil, tardislover1, Guest, Capricornwholovesbooks and JS for reviewing! <em>


	7. Chapter 7

_**7.**_

The water was hot against Moriarty's back as he stood in the shower, pushing his damp hair out of his eyes when he reached up, running his fingers through it. Steam filled the room and the temperature was scalding, but Moriarty didn't care, nor did he notice. His thoughts were on Elspeth.

Sebastian had showed some concern for them both – Moriarty and Elspeth – and their feelings towards each other; more importantly, Moriarty's feelings for her. Sebastian Moran was a rational man, not one for imagining things, but he'd somehow got it into his head that Moriarty had _romantic _feelings for Elspeth, which seemed entirely absurd to the man in question. Romance was for the weak minded, love for the likes of people such as Sherlock – and look where that had got him. Sherlock's love had destroyed him and Moriarty was determined not to go the same way, scoffing every time Sebastian mentioned the notion.

Still, Elspeth Holmes intrigued him. She was a source of entertainment, but also a puzzle, a ball of contradictions; she was kind and soft and caring, yet held a fire in her eyes and a burning hatred for him, even if that aspect had dimmed slightly. Elspeth acted as if she couldn't stand Moriarty's company but also as if she was glad for it, holding his hand in those quiet moments they had together, giving him those secretive smiles she only shared with him.

Reaching round behind him, Moriarty turned the shower head off and stared at the small elastic hairband lying on the soap rack. Strands of dark hair clung to it, knotted around it, and he played with absent mindedly for a few seconds.

Since that day at the beach, something had changed. Moriarty couldn't tell what and that made him uncomfortable, not that he would ever admit it.

Sebastian was completely and utterly convinced that he, Jim Moriarty, had fallen in love with Elspeth. He wanted to laugh at the idea, tell the sniper that he was being ridiculous, but as he played with the hairband, Moriarty found it harder than he thought it would be. He frowned.

The hairband laid on the shower floor, forgotten as he left the bathroom.

It didn't take long for Moriarty to dress in his usual shirt and suit, carefully smoothing out any non-existent creases and straightening his sleeves. He liked to look professional, liked to feel the tailored material against his skin. There was nothing worse than an ill fitted suit, in Moriarty's opinion; the thought of Sherlock and those too tight shirts he wore made him grimace. Smoothing his hair back with gel – it would only stick up all over the place if he didn't – Moriarty stepped out into the corridor.

The front door opened as Moriarty walked through to the kitchen. He glanced up at Elspeth, whose eyes swept over the flat before meeting his, and she grimaced comically at him.

"Busted," Moriarty sung. Elspeth looked sheepish. "What were you doing?"

"I was on the roof," she admitted, lying her tripod down on the kitchen table and taking her camera from around her neck. "Taking photos of the sunset – it was absolutely gorgeous." Elspeth grinned to herself. "Oh yeah, this belongs to you, I think." She took a key from her pocket and put it on the counter. "Why do you have a key to the roof?"

"You never know when it might come in handy," Moriarty said, putting the key on his pocket. Elspeth frowned at him.

"Right."

Elspeth leaned against the counter, half watching Moriarty make tea, half daydreaming. She considered Sebastian's words; _I think Jim is in love with you_. His words went round and round in her head, over and over, and she couldn't stop thinking about them.

Jim Moriarty, in love, with her. It wasn't possible. How could he be? Why would he be? Why him? And why her? It was such a ridiculous thought that Elspeth almost wanted to smile, but she couldn't, because in the back of her mind she was wondering if it was true.

Of all the people, in all the world, why would Jim Moriarty fall in love with her, Elspeth Holmes?

Moriarty put a cup down next to Elspeth and she thanked him, her eyes widening when she realised her tea was just how she liked it. It had been like that for a while now. Elspeth remembered reading something that suggested there were millions of ways to say _I love you_, and sometimes they were through a person's actions, and knowing exactly how she liked her tea struck her as something that would fall into that category.

"You've got that look in your eyes again," Moriarty said to her, one side of his mouth quirking upwards as he smirked at her. "You're _thinking_, aren't you?"

"Got to have an intelligent conversation somehow," Elspeth murmured without any malice in her voice. Moriarty smirked, even laughed a little at her, and she frowned back at him. Sebastian was wrong. "Are you going to work today?" she blurted without meaning to.

Moriarty made a noise of agreement. "I do have to make an appearance in my office _sometimes_." He looked at her with a teasing gleam in his eyes and added, "Are you going to miss me?"

"You wish."

He chuckled and Elspeth rolled her eyes, sipping her coffee. She glanced over at the toaster, considering making breakfast, then realised that the bread was nearly finished. She was certain that if she looked in the fridge, there wouldn't be very much food in there either; in fact, Elspeth couldn't recall seeing Moriarty or Sebastian bringing shopping back.

He trusted her. Moriarty must've done if he had left his keys in a place she could easily take them from the previous day, and they both knew that there was nowhere she could run to.

So what was stopping her from going shopping for them?

Elspeth realised she was going to have to ask him. She didn't have any money, or a way of getting to the shops – she was going to have to get a taxi or a bus, because walking on her own didn't strike her as a smart idea. She scowled. She didn't like having to ask permission.

"Are you having breakfast?" Moriarty asked, sounding casual. Elspeth's eyes darted up to meet his.

"With what bread?" she retorted. "It's nearly all gone. Seriously, when was the last time you or Sebastian went shopping?"

Moriarty grimaced, trying not to laugh at the unimpressed look in Elspeth's eyes, and glanced over at the bread. "There's enough for _some_ toast, surely," he said. Elspeth raised her eyebrows. "I don't go shopping, Ellie, I don't know what to get – _Sebastian's _the domestic one."

"You're a grown man and you don't do your own shopping," Elspeth drawled. "_Right_." She paused for a second, then added, "I'll do it for you. Today. If you want."

Turning to look at her, Moriarty asked, "How do I know you're going to come back?"

Elspeth sighed. She'd been expecting that. "I was on the _roof_ this morning. That would've been the perfect opportunity to _not come back_, and look, here I am." She shrugged, then wrapped her arms around herself. "Plus, we both kinda know that there's nowhere else for me to go now . . . I've screwed up my life good and proper," she murmured, and Moriarty looked almost sympathetic. Then again, he could've been mocking her. She'd never know with him. "So I may as well make myself useful."

"Alright," Moriarty said with a shrug, taking Elspeth by surprise. "What do you want to get?"

"Uh . . ." Elspeth had a quick think. "Bread, maybe some cereal – do you eat cereal?" she didn't give Moriarty the opportunity to answer, brushing past him and opening the fridge. "Wow, we are really running low on stuff to eat," she commented, then looked at Moriarty over her shoulder. "Is there any specific you want? Or any allergies I should know about? I don't want to accidentally kill you."

Moriarty shook his head to both questions. "Why don't you write a list?" he teased.

The sarcasm went straight over Elspeth's head; she grabbed a pen and some paper, scribbling down everything that came to her mind. She purposely left out the stuff that she needed because she really didn't want to discuss feminine hygiene with Moriarty, but was otherwise comfortable to show him the list.

There was something quite amusing about going shopping for Moriarty. Elspeth never expected to have to do that, but it was nice to do something normal. Sometimes, before he died, Elspeth would do the shopping for her and Sherlock just for some peace, a chance to clear her head and hear her own thoughts. In a strange way, she was looking forwards to it.

Elspeth watched Moriarty scan the list, biting her bottom lip. He nodded and handed it back to her.

"Suppose you want some money," he said, but not unhappily. Elspeth gave him a sheepish grin, her eyes widening when he took out his wallet and handed her a posh looking debit card. "Don't lose it."

"How much is on this?"

"More than enough." Moriarty pointed a stern finger at her. "Don't be buying yourself new clothes or make up, because I'll know." His lips twitched and Elspeth knew he was messing around, flipping the card between her fingers as she memorised the PIN number Moriarty gave her. It would be so easy for her to just take her bags and go, move from hotel to hotel, maybe even leave the country, and all with Moriarty's money. It would be the perfect way to spite him.

But Elspeth decided she wasn't going to. No impulsive purchases, no running away, no funny business. All she was going to do was some shopping for them to get through the weeks.

"Don't you have an office to go to?" Elspeth teased Moriarty, still playing with the card. He smirked.

"I'll know if there's any funny business," he warned. Elspeth rolled her eyes, pretending it didn't bother her, and Moriarty acted as if he didn't know the notion annoyed her. In an odd way that he couldn't quite explain, Moriarty felt as if he could trust Elspeth not to do anything stupid – not that he would be mad, of course. He would be rather impressed if she did.

Moriarty knew she wouldn't, though. The look in her eyes told him so.

"No funny business," Elspeth promised. "Plus, if I was going to escape the country with this –" she held the card up. "– the obvious thing to do would be take all your money out of the bank and throw the card away. That way I won't leave a trail."

"Why, Ellie, you're a little criminal mastermind in the making."

"Careful. That almost sounds like a compliment."

Elspeth's quick retort took Moriarty by surprise. He grinned, finished his tea, and said goodbye to her as he strode out of the apartment, leaving her to get ready for a few hours of freedom.

Elspeth took her time. She took her hair out of the messy bun she had scraped it into that morning, tugging a brush through it until it was at least sort of neat and tying it back into a much neater pair of braids, then changed her jeans for a much lighter pair of shorts and baggy hoodie. Elspeth knew it was ridiculous, but she stuffed an old baseball cap in her pocket as well, just in case she needed to hide her face. It had been a long time since she had seen anyone. She didn't know if she deal with the awkward questions and sympathetic frowns.

She wasn't that far from central London, and there was some change in her purse when she checked, so Elspeth decided to get the bus. Taxis were great, but sometimes Elspeth liked to just sink back and disappear into the crowds.

It didn't take long to get to the shops. Pushing the trolley with the list in one hand, Elspeth strolled up and down aisles, taking her time. She was actually enjoying herself.

The cashier gave Elspeth a strange look when she took Moriarty's card from her pocket, but Elspeth raised her eyebrows in a haughty manner and the girl behind the counter didn't say anything. She didn't feel quite as smug, however, when she had to lug several heavy carrier bags out on her own. Perhaps now was the time to call for a taxi.

"Miss Holmes?"

Elspeth turned at the sound of a familiar voice, her face dropping. "Anthea," she said. "What are you doing here?"

Anthea gave her a polite smile. "I've come for you, actually. If you wouldn't mind . . ." she gestured towards the dark car with tinted windows that had just pulled up beside them, and Elspeth scowled, shaking her head. There was no way this was happening.

"No," Elspeth said firmly. "No, no way. This is not happening, not now – I've got shopping!"

"I can assure you that your purchases will remain safe and untouched. This really won't take up much of your time, Miss Holmes." The polite smile was becoming more and more strained as Elspeth adamantly refused to get into the car, and Anthea let out a quiet sigh, glancing down at her phone in her hand. "I cannot force you to do anything you don't want to, Miss Holmes, but I would highly recommend maintaining your dignity by just accompanying me. You and I both know it will be easier that way."

Elspeth was tempted to tell her where to stick it, but decided against it. "Fine," she said begrudgingly. "But these –" she lifted up her bags. "– are going in the boot and _staying_ there."

Anthea smiled again and nodded, and the driver got out of the car to open the boot for Elspeth. She didn't recognise him but he gave her a polite nod, murmuring a quiet greeting even though she glowered up at him. Elspeth hoped that Moriarty didn't find out about this.

Sliding into the backseat of the car, Elspeth turned her glower in Anthea's direction. It went unnoticed, though, as the older woman's attention was on her phone.

"I'm sure this is illegal somehow," Elspeth muttered under her breath.

Anthea did not dignify her with an answer.

* * *

><p>Mycroft Holmes knew that Elspeth had arrived when he heard her footsteps approaching from down the hall, loud and heavy because she was angry; she was usually otherwise quite light on her feet. He prepared himself, carefully placing his work to the side and clasping his hands together in front of him. He wasn't surprised when the door burst open.<p>

"The usual protocol is to knock, I believe," Mycroft said loftily.

Elspeth glared back at him, her arms folded across her chest. "The usual protocol is to not kidnap someone off the street," she said. "What the _hell_, Mycroft? That's not cool – I was in the middle of something, I have places to be. You can't just whisk me away in that stupid, fancy car of yours every time you want a quick chat."

Mycroft was silent during his niece's furious tirade, looking her up and down. She looked well enough if you looked past the various cuts and bruises scattered across her, the most obvious being on her face. They appeared old, lighter than most and healing, but that didn't lessen his concern for her. He knew Elspeth had a knack for getting herself into trouble, and it appeared as if trouble had finally caught up with her.

"Who is the lucky winner, then?" Mycroft asked. Elspeth raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm not stupid, Elspeth, though bruises are not the result of an accident. You've obviously been in a fight – and lost," he added as an afterthought. Pursing her lips together, Elspeth shifted her weight from one foot to the other and didn't say anything. "So who was it?"

"No one," Elspeth muttered. It was Mycroft's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Ok, it was just some stupid girl fight at a party. I was drunk, she was drunk, things got a bit heated. It's nothing really."

"Nice to know how hard your father's death affected you."

"Screw you," Elspeth snapped back without thinking, furious that Mycroft would even think something like that. "You have no idea what I've been going through since he died. I'm surprised you still care, it's only been – oh, how long . . .? Oh yeah, a couple of _months_ since Dad died, and where have you been? Sitting here and acting like nothing's happened." Elspeth didn't mean it. She was just lashing out because she was angry and Mycroft's words had made her feel guilty.

"If I recall correctly, Elspeth, _you_ were the one who left the funeral early," Mycroft pointed out. Elspeth flinched and Mycroft sighed, leaning back in his seat. "I didn't bring you here to fight with you."

"Why did you bring me here, then?"

Mycroft gestured towards one of the chairs on the other side of the desk and Elspeth stormed forwards, falling into it with a defiant expression.

"Believe it or not, Elspeth, I've been concerned for your wellbeing," Mycroft told her. Elspeth's anger faded, her expression softening, but it only last for a few seconds before she put up her defensive wall again. "I may not be in regular contact with him, but at least I know how John is."

Her stomach twisted at the mention of John. ". . . how is he?" Elspeth asked quietly.

"He's returned to his therapist. I'm also under the impression that he's planning on moving out of 221B."

Elspeth nodded. She could understand that; she'd only been in 221B for a night after Sherlock's death and couldn't take it, so it only made sense for John to move on as well. It was home, but not without Sherlock, and there was no way of getting over his death when there were constant reminders surrounding them. She briefly wondered how different her life would be if she had just gone to therapy like a normal person, her lips twitching into a dry smile.

Mycroft watched Elspeth with a frown. She met his eyes. "I haven't seen him since the funeral," she admitted. "Or heard from him. I haven't really seen anyone."

"I know."

Shrugging, Elspeth said, "I just needed some space, you know? I . . . things – things were hard, I needed to get away from it all for a bit, but I never meant for it to turn out like this." Mycroft didn't understand the weight of Elspeth's words, unaware of her living arrangements and predicament, and even if she told him, she highly doubted he would be able to help. Elspeth didn't know if she wanted to be helped. "How are you, then? Coping ok?"

"I'm fine," Mycroft assured her. Even though she was angry and trying to hold a grudge, it was hard for Elspeth not to feel concerned. He looked at her closely. "How are you, Elspeth?"

"What is this, a therapy session?" she wisecracked, giving him a wry grin. Mycroft didn't laugh. "I don't know, I guess I'm alright. The nightmares have stopped."

"Those bruises are recent."

"Yeah, believe me, I know. So I have bad days. Who doesn't?"

"But you're safe," Mycroft clarified. "You have somewhere to live?"

"Yep, I'm . . . uh, I'm bunking with a mate, actually," Elspeth said, and it wasn't a _complete _lie. "They had a spare room so they're letting me stay while I get myself back on my feet." That part was sort of true, she supposed. "I took all my stuff out while John wasn't there, which was really wrong of me and kind of spiteful, but I couldn't face him."

Mycroft felt some sympathy for his niece. Out of everyone, Sherlock's death probably affected her the most, hit her the hardest. He didn't approve of the drinking or the fighting or the sneaking around, but knowing that Elspeth was safe lessened the blow. Mycroft had been telling the truth when he said he was concerned.

Despite the bruises, Elspeth looked well. Healthy, even. She'd lost some weight but that was understandable, and the dark circles under her eyes weren't as prominent as they had been at the funeral.

"Do I know them?" Mycroft asked. Elspeth gave him a quizzical friend and he elaborated, "Your friend."

"Nope," Elspeth said, sounding as casual as she could manage. "And I'm not giving you their name, either. I know what you're like when it comes to flatmates."

There was a hint of a smile on Elspeth's face when she thought about John's reaction to being accosted by Mycroft all those years ago. The last thing Elspeth wanted was for her uncle to find out that her flatmate was none other than Jim Moriarty, who was supposed to be dead and may or may not be in love with her. She felt as though that may cause some problems.

Elspeth considered the possibility of Moriarty being in love with her for a second. It wasn't true.

"Ok, so you know I'm alive and safe," Elspeth said. "Can I go now?"

"Somewhere to be?" Mycroft asked, torn between exasperation and amusement. Elspeth nodded.

"Not that I don't enjoy your scintillating company, of course," she teased. She rose to her feet and so did Mycroft, both of them gazing at each other for a few seconds. Her grin fading, Elspeth shrugged. "It was nice to see you, though, even if you did kind of drag me here against my will." She ducked her head. "I've missed you."

Mycroft didn't respond, but when Elspeth wrapped her arms around him, he returned the embrace. She was young and vulnerable and more confused than she could let on, and he wished he could've done more to protect her from recent events. He kissed the top of her head lightly. Elspeth squeezed her eyes shut and wished that she could tell him what was going on in her life, how everything felt so overwhelming and strange and different.

But she didn't. Elspeth pulled away, gave Mycroft a sheepish grin, and murmured a goodbye as she turned and left the office.

* * *

><p>Moriarty was in the apartment when Elspeth returned, and he wasn't alone. He sat at the dining room table with Sebastian on one side and an unfamiliar woman sitting across from them. She had a warm looking face, the sort a mother would have, and short blonde hair that looked as if it had been cut for convenience rather than style or personal preference, her eyes flickering up to meet Elspeth's. Sebastian acknowledged Elspeth with a curt nod.<p>

"You took your time," Moriarty said without looking round, scribbling on a piece of paper in front of him. Elspeth bit her lip.

"I had to make a quick detour," she said.

Moriarty turned in his seat then, his dark eyes flickering up and down, and Elspeth noticed that he was chewing gum in that obnoxious way of his. She hated it when people did that.

Staring back at him with a challenging look in her eyes, Elspeth waited for Moriarty to say something. He didn't. When he finally tore his gaze from her, his attention returning to the woman in front of him, Elspeth let out a small breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding and walked through to the kitchen to put the shopping away.

Sebastian frowned, but Moriarty didn't protest. He didn't care if Elspeth overheard them; what could she do?

"How rude of me," he said abruptly, breaking the silence of the flat. "I haven't introduced my two favourite girls to each other! Ellie, this is Mary. Mary, this is Ellie."

Elspeth gave Mary a bracketed smile and the older woman returned it with a slight nod. She didn't look like a Mary, Elspeth thought to herself as she put the shopping away, and she wondered if it was a fake name, or an alias. It wasn't completely implausible. If she had worked for the likes of Moriarty, she wouldn't want him to know her real name.

Quietly excusing himself, Sebastian joined Elspeth in the kitchen and swiped the carton of orange juice from her hand before she put it in the fridge, taking a long drink from it.

"That's disgusting," Elspeth complained. "At least use a glass."

"Since when did you go shopping?" Sebastian asked under his breath. Elspeth snatched the carton back from him.

"Since today. We had hardly anything left and you were both meant to be at work so Jim gave me his card." Elspeth glanced over at Moriarty, who was passing something over to Mary for her to read over, and frowned. "Who _is_ that?" she murmured, not taking her eyes off them.

"Mary Morstan," Sebastian replied quietly. "Sniper."

That was all Elspeth needed to know. She frowned, watching Moriarty and Mary for a few seconds more before returning her attention to the shopping. Sebastian watched her in silence, plucking the carton from her hand and taking another swig of juice before putting it into the fridge, strolling back to the dining room.

"Don't let me down," Moriarty said in a low voice that Elspeth knew all too well. Mary nodded, accepted the cheque that he gave to her, and stood up. Her clothes were just as practical as her hairstyle but with a hint of personality to them; she wore a sensible pair of jeans, flat shoes, and a bright red coat that was startlingly colourful in comparison to her otherwise plain ensemble.

Elspeth watched Mary leave. She had a careful, calculated way of moving, as if she thought about every step before she took it. Sebastian had similar mannerisms, but carried himself with more confidence – so much so that it bordered on cockiness, which was probably why he got on so well with Moriarty.

"Anyone I know?" Elspeth asked when Mary was gone, and Moriarty frowned at her. "The person she's shooting. Sebastian told me she was a sniper."

"No," Moriarty said. He gathered the papers on the table together. "Where was your quick detour to?" Elspeth didn't reply for a few seconds. "Come on, Ellie, tell me where you've been," he said in a soft, sing song voice.

"With Mycroft," Elspeth said. Mycroft's eyes snapped up to meets hers, dark and dangerous.

"_What_?"

"You heard me. I was with Mycroft. You know, my _uncle_."

Moriarty abandoned his paperwork and strode through to the kitchen, Sebastian retreating to the living room so he wouldn't get caught in the middle of a potential argument. He kept a watchful eye on the pair though, just in case.

"Why," Moriarty murmured, approaching Elspeth. She didn't move. "would you do that?"

"It wasn't my idea," Elspeth said stiffly, tilting her head back so she could meet Moriarty's eyes, resenting him for being taller than her even though it was something neither of them could control. Still, Moriarty knew how to use his height to his advantage and stood close to Elspeth in an attempt to intimidate her, which was less effective when she considered Sebastian's concerns. "And even if it was, he's my family. You have no right to be pissed at me for wanting to see him."

Glaring down at her for a second, Moriarty reached out and gently tugged on one of Elspeth's braids. "I suppose not," he said. "But –"

"But nothing," Elspeth interrupted fiercely. "I don't care what you think, Jim, you don't _own_ me or control what I can and can't do, so get over it." She pushed Moriarty's hand away. "I'm going to have a shower."

She strode past Moriarty with a defiant look in her eyes and heard Sebastian's laughter all the way down the hall, feeling more than a little bit pleased with herself. Locking herself in the bathroom, Elspeth stripped down and turned the hot water on so high that it scorched her skin, turning it red and raw, but she didn't care. Her eyes flickering down, she frowned when she spotted the hairband on the floor by her feet.

Elspeth picked it up. She hadn't realised she'd left the hairband behind, placing it on the soap rack behind her with the other two she'd tied her braids with.

If Moriarty was really in love with her, then Elspeth didn't know what she would do. She didn't know how she felt about it. No one had ever been in love with her, she was certain, and in a strange way, Elspeth felt almost flattered by it. It frightened her a little though. Elspeth didn't know if Moriarty felt love with other people, like a normal person, but neither of them were completely normal. They were more alike than she cared to admit.

Was she in love with him?

The thought sprung to her mind suddenly, and once it was there, Elspeth couldn't get it out of her head. No, of course she wasn't in love with him; how could she possibly be?

Elspeth had never been in love. She didn't know what it felt like but she'd always expected it to be something bold and amazing and life changing, and the thought of falling in love with someone made her feel anxious, even a bit scared. Elspeth wasn't afraid of commitment – at least, she didn't _think_ she was – but she couldn't imagine wanting to spend the rest of her life with someone. She was a mess, a ball of fear and anxiety and confusion, so to think that someone – _anyone_ – would want to love her despite all of that was farfetched.

Sighing, Elspeth ran her hands through her wet hair and scowled. "Damn you, Sebastian," she muttered under her breath. This was all his fault.

_I think Jim is in love with you_.It felt like Sebastian had ruined everything with one simple sentence.

Moriarty trusted her, obviously. He let her come and go, he gave her his _card_, he didn't even get majorly pissed when she admitted she'd seen Mycroft, not that she gave him a choice. Perhaps walking away from a potential argument wasn't particularly mature but it was all Elspeth could do to stop herself from doing something stupid. Like making him even angrier.

She turned the shower off, wrapped herself in a towel, and huffed at her reflection.

Elspeth couldn't see what Moriarty would find attractive about her. She couldn't understand any of it and, not for the first time, she wished that she'd just gone to therapy like John.

John. Poor, poor John. Elspeth's heart ached when she thought about him, alone, scared, depressed. Leaving 221B because he couldn't stand to live there without her or Sherlock anymore, back to how he'd been before he moved in with them.

Elspeth shook her head. Tightening her arms around herself and holding the towel close, she left the steaming hot bathroom, almost bumping into Sebastian as she did.

"Whoops," he said lightly, stepping to the side and dodging her. She glowered up at him. "Woah, what's that look for?"

"This is all your fault," Elspeth told him. Sebastian looked confused, opening his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. "Things were _ok_ before you decided to stick your nose in it – I was getting on with Jim, and now I'm constantly worrying about what I say or do in case he tries to come onto me! Do you know how frustrating that is? Not knowing if someone is in love with you or not? Because I sure as hell do!"

"I didn't mean to cause trouble –"

"Well you did." Elspeth hugged herself, well aware that she was only wearing a towel, and looked away. "Things are really confusing for me right now," she murmured, then retreated to the safety of her bedroom. Standing in front of her mirror, she pursed her lips together and gazed at herself for a few seconds, wondering what Moriarty saw in her that would make him fall in love with her. Elspeth couldn't understand it.

Elspeth frowned. "Nope," she said to herself. "Can't see it."

Getting dressed, Elspeth considered the possibility of falling in love with Moriarty. It wasn't something she could control or stop, but it was something she hoped wouldn't happen because things were complicated enough without feelings getting in the way. She tugged a brush through her unruly hair and wondered if falling in love with Moriarty, or Moriarty falling in love with her, would be as awful as she first thought it would be.

She snorted under her breath, then realised it wasn't completely implausible. How many times had she got herself into trouble just for the thrill of it? Done something stupid to feel a rush? Elspeth wasn't as bad as Sherlock and John, but she was close. There was no denying it; Elspeth liked the danger her life entailed and it seemed that Moriarty fit into that. Living with him, becoming close, even enjoying his company – it was all dangerous.

Elspeth's life was strange and twisted and dangerous, and though she would never admit, she kind of liked it.

* * *

><p><em>Thank you Capricornwholovesbooks, little101, tardislover1, TheDoctorIsMyGuardian, That-Crazy-Psycho, blueboxdream and Adrillian1497 for reviewing! <em>

_Happy Halloween everyone! Have a nice day/night and remember to stay safe! _


	8. Chapter 8

_**8.**_

It was one of those warm evenings in London, the sort where the air was humid and close, and Elspeth was relieved at how cool the apartment felt when she opened the windows. Even Moriarty had taken off his layers, his jacket and tie discarded on the back of the sofa, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to reveal his lean forearms. He looked smaller somehow. Elspeth glanced his way when she wandered past, walking through to the kitchen to turn on the radio. The silence was deafening.

The hem of her shorts brushed against Elspeth's thigh as she walked, strands of her hair tickling the back of her neck. She sighed and rested her arms against the cool surface of the counter as she reached out, fiddling with the radio.

Moriarty looked up at the sound of music playing. His gaze rested on Elspeth, who was leaning against the counter and listening to the song with a small smile, her fingers tapping in time to the guitar. It was a slow voice, the singer's voice deep, but the chorus picked up a little, and that was what Elspeth was swaying along to without meaning to. She didn't even realise she was moving.

Elspeth was so caught up in her own world that she didn't hear Moriarty stand up, looking startled when he held his hand out towards her.

Staring back at him, Elspeth opened her mouth to say something before realising she had no words. His hand didn't waver, nor did his eyes, which were staring intently into hers. Elspeth hesitated. After a few seconds of thought, she placed her hand in Moriarty's and let him take her through to the living room, gently spinning her around until she faced him again. Moriarty didn't say a word and neither did she, not even when he took both her hands in his, moving their arms back and forwards.

The music continued to play while Moriarty and Elspeth danced. Their arms moved in unison while they danced back and forth, and occasionally he would spin her so Elspeth could feel the air on her face, unable to stop herself from grinning. She even laughed a little when Moriarty let her spin him around, his back hitting her chest so he had to crane his neck back to grin at her, and the pair stayed like that as they swayed for a few seconds.

Moriarty's hand caught Elspeth's and he held it there, their fingers weaving together as his other hand rested on her waist, pulling her close.

They swayed in small circles for a long time after that, neither one looking away from each other's gaze, and Elspeth realised just how warm Moriarty's hand was. It was strange.

It had been so long since Elspeth had been close to anyone; she didn't think as she took her hand from his, instead wrapping both her arms around his neck as she rested her head on his shoulder. Moriarty's arms circled her waist and he held her even closer than before, and all they did was sway in each other's arms, so tangled up it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended. Elspeth closed her eyes. She could feel Moriarty's breath on the back of her neck, his heart beating against hers, the way his fingers gently pressed into the small of her back.

It never once occurred to her to pull away.

When the music ended, fading away into the silence of the flat, Elspeth's eyes flickered open. She loosened her arms from around Moriarty's neck and felt his arms do the same, her hands resting on his shoulders as she gazed up at him.

Moriarty took his hands from her waist, reaching up to touch her cheek, his fingers ghosting along her skin. Elspeth closed her eyes.

Neither of them could explain it, but something had changed; a barrier between them had been broken somehow. Moriarty's brow creased a little as he reached up again, cupping both of Elspeth's cheeks with his hands and stroking her hair behind her ears, feeling how soft and vulnerable she really was. She was so beautiful; she was everything that he wasn't. Kind, compassionate, _innocent_. And Moriarty felt drawn to it like a moth was to a light bulb, suddenly wanting nothing more than to lean down and press his lips against hers.

But he didn't, not yet. He allowed his hand to stray, feeling Elspeth shiver when his fingers brushed against the delicate skin of her neck and rested on the curve between it and her shoulder. They were still close enough for him to feel her heartbeat.

It would be so easy to kiss her.

Moriarty leaned forwards, only a little so the movement was barely noticeable, but Elspeth's eyes snapped open to meet his. They were beautiful and lit up with fear as she stared at him, her tongue darting out to wet her dry lips. Her breath hitched and Moriarty made no attempt to move back, nor did he lean in again; he was waiting for her reaction.

Elspeth swallowed. It would be easy to just let it happen, forget about everything for one night . . . but she couldn't do it, not even to escape from the pain inside. It felt like the coward's way out. It felt wrong.

Moriarty's hands were on her skin and they were so warm and gentle, his breath making the hairs on the back of her neck standing up, and it was so wrong that it almost felt right in some twisted way, but Elspeth's stomach clenched at the thought of it and she shook her head. Taking her hands from his shoulders, Elspeth stared up at Moriarty.

"_Please_," she whispered – _begged_. "Don't."

Holding her for a few seconds longer, Moriarty made no move to pull away. He gazed at her.

Moriarty lowered his hands. Letting out a quiet, shaky breath, Elspeth took a step back and turned around, walking away.

"Ellie," Moriarty called after her. Elspeth paused in the doorway, her hands shaking by her sides, and then faced him again with a wary look in her eyes, wondering what he had to say to her. Moriarty was silent; he couldn't understand how something so right had gone so _wrong_ in the space of a few seconds. He didn't think like her. He didn't understand how she felt, why she was so reluctant and afraid, and Moriarty hated to admit that he was confused by it. He gazed at her, watching her, trying to gauge her reaction, and Elspeth stared back at him. Neither of them said anything for a long time.

Finally, Elspeth tore her eyes from Moriarty's. He didn't say anything as she walked away.

* * *

><p>"What's that?" Before Moriarty could stop her, Elspeth plucked the envelope from his hand, darting away before he could take it back from her. "Mr James Moriarty," she read. "That sounds serious."<p>

"And private," Moriarty said. A few days had passed but neither of them had spoken about what had happened between them, and even though they knew it was something that shouldn't be ignored, they did so anyway.

Elspeth snorted. "Please. My uncle has control of all the security cameras in London – he even set up a surveillance tape at home once. Privacy means nothing to me."

Grinning, Moriarty shook his head. "You're impossible," he murmured, sounding more than a little affectionate.

"So what is it?"

Moriarty sighed and looked at the envelope in his hand. "It's an invitation," he explained to Elspeth. He'd already known that, of course, as he received one every year; Moriarty had recognised the envelope the second he saw it. "To attend an important social function."

"Is it one of those social functions where there are a load of dodgy people hanging around pretending they don't break the law because they're wearing expensive suits?"

"Yep."

"Oh, you'll fit right in then," Elspeth said. Moriarty snorted, his lips twitching into a smirk, and Elspeth sat down by the table with her legs curled up to her chest, holding her cup of tea on her knees. "Seriously, what do you do at that sort of thing? What do you_ talk_ about?" She couldn't imagine a load of criminals gathered together in one room making polite conversation. "Do you brag about how many people you've killed this year or which high security buildings you've broken into?""

"Of course not," Moriarty scoffed. "It's a very civilised, sophisticated evening, actually."

"I highly doubt that," Elspeth murmured.

She was wondering how so many people – all of whom had broken the law somehow, whether it be a small crime or organising a huge criminal network such as Moriarty had – could gather in one room and maintain a sophisticated atmosphere when Moriarty surprised her by saying, "Come with me."

Elspeth blinked, frowned, then stared at Moriarty. "What?"

"Come with me," he repeated. They were only three words, and Moriarty made it sound so simple, but Elspeth remembered what had happened the last time she encountered one of his colleagues; the bruises had only just healed completely. Sensing her reluctance, Moriarty smirked and asked, "You aren't _scared_, are you?"

Elspeth's eyes snapped up to meet his. She glared at him. "It isn't _funny_," she said. "You do remember what Roscoe did to me, right?"

"Yes, but he's dead."

"It's not that simple." Elspeth pursed her lips together. "You don't ever get scared, do you?"

"Nope." Moriarty popped the 'p' in a childish way and Elspeth tried not to roll her eyes, sipping her tea as she considered Moriarty's offer. Normally she would've been flattered – if it were someone else, of course, and if they weren't attending an event where the guest list was largely made up of criminals. Elspeth thought back to her prom, the only thing she could consider as formal, and tried not to grimace. It had been a fun night but she didn't think the function Moriarty was talking about would be quite the same.

"Why me?" Elspeth finally asked in a low voice, staring into her tea so she wouldn't have to look at Moriarty. "Why not Sebastian?"

"I don't think he'd look quite as pretty as you in a dress, do you?"

Elspeth smiled to herself. It still didn't make sense though. There was denying it – Moriarty was a nice looking man, so he could've probably taken any woman that he wanted to this function, and yet he was choosing her. The one girl who had managed to piss a lot of dangerous people off.

"I'm not going if you're trying to make a point," Elspeth told him. "Or if you're trying to show off."

Moriarty pretended to look offended, his eyes wide and his mouth open. "Would I ever do such a thing?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

"Do you really want them all to know that you're scared?"

"Well –" Elspeth cut herself off and frowned, narrowing her eyes at Moriarty. "No, of course not," she said. "But I'm not an idiot. I'm not going to walk into a room full of people who would like to _kill_ me." She finished her tea and sighed, putting the cup down on the table in front of her. "So if you're trying to prove some ridiculous point or play stupid mind games with everyone, I don't want any part in it, ok?"

Smirking, Moriarty said, "I don't need to prove a point, Ellie. No one gets to me . . . _remember?_"

"But they can still get to me, _remember_?"

Moriarty rolled his eyes. "Don't you want to go out?" he asked. "I thought girls liked getting dressed up and making themselves look nice."

"That's so sexist."

"Do you want to come or not?"

Elspeth shrugged. "I guess," she said casually, trying not to feel excited when she thought about getting dressed up. She frowned as a thought came to her mind. "I don't have anything to wear though."

"We'll get you something," Moriarty promised. He glanced over at Elspeth but she was focused on the cup in front of her, a small crease appearing on her forehead as she frowned, and he briefly wondered what she was thinking about. He supposed he was trying to make a point by bringing her to the function with him, but Moriarty couldn't deny that he also quite liked the idea of having Elspeth Holmes by his side, hanging off his arm.

"Stop looking at me like that," Elspeth said, getting up and walking through to the kitchen. Moriarty smirked. "So when is this function thing?"

"Tomorrow."

Elspeth almost dropped her cup, whirling around to face Moriarty with wide eyes. "Tomorrow?" she repeated. "That's really short notice."

"Don't you worry your pretty little head about it," Moriarty said, following her to the kitchen and pinching her cheek. Elspeth scowled, pushing his hand away. "You'll have something pretty to wear for tomorrow, I promise." Elspeth gave him a dubious look. "Don't look at me like that, Ellie, you'll be the prettiest girl there."

"Why do I find it really hard to believe you?"

"Ellie, I'm hurt! I would've thought you'd trust me by now."

Sighing, Elspeth looked up at him with raised eyebrows. "If you get me some ridiculous dress, I swear –"

Moriarty cut her off by placing a finger on his lips, smirking. "Trust me," he murmured.

* * *

><p>"Come on, Ellie, it's time to go."<p>

"Alright, alright, I'm coming," Elspeth called back. "Just give me a minute."

Moriarty rolled his eyes and Sebastian laughed, tugging on the sleeves of his shirt. He'd only agreed to go with them when Moriarty explained Elspeth's concerns to him, and even then Sebastian had felt reluctant. He didn't want to hang around with a bunch of snobs all evening, especially when half the women there would make pitiful attempts to flirt with him. Plus he didn't want to watch Moriarty fussing over Elspeth all evening.

Sebastian looked up and, noticing Elspeth walk down the corridor, gently nudged Moriarty so he would look round as well. Moriarty turned – and stared.

Elspeth's gown was black with a simple, silver embellishment under the bust, with thick straps covering her shoulders and a skirt that brushed against her ankles when she walked. She'd tied her hair back and had even put on a bit of make up, and she so stunning that Moriarty found it hard to tear his eyes off her. Sebastian let out a low whistle and Elspeth blushed, one arm wrapped around herself self-consciously.

"So . . . how do I look?" she asked.

"Beautiful," Moriarty told her. Elspeth tried not to grin and let Moriarty take her hand, tucking it into the crook of his arm as they left. Her heart pounded as she slid into the back of the car. She had no idea what was going to happen that night, or who she was going to meet, and for a few seconds, Elspeth was tempted to reach out and grab Moriarty's hand just so she would have something to hold onto. But she didn't.

Sebastian glanced over at Moriarty and Elspeth, who were sitting side by side. He frowned; they almost looked like a couple.

He looked away again, more than a little disconcerted by the thought. He hadn't really spoken to Elspeth since their encounter in the corridor, and even then their conversation had been quite sharp. And short. Sebastian didn't _mean_ to cause trouble, nor did he mean to upset Elspeth, especially not when he was starting to grow fond of her. Sort of. He'd never tell her though.

"Something on your mind, Sebastian?" Moriarty asked, his fingers drumming against his knee.

"Nothing at all," Sebastian replied.

Moriarty looked at him closely, but didn't say anything else as he looked away. Elspeth was fidgeting next to him, unable to keep her hands still, and Moriarty reached out to cover one of her hands with his own. Elspeth bit her lip, glancing his way; Moriarty was gazing out of the window. She didn't pull away. Sebastian frowned at the pair of them.

"Anything I should know before we go in?" Elspeth murmured when the car came to a stop, pulling her hand from Moriarty's as her eyes flickered between him and Sebastian. The sniper gave her a good natured grimace.

"Don't piss people off," he advised, climbing out of the car. Elspeth glared at his retreating back, then turned to give Moriarty a narrow eyed stare.

"Any _real_ advice?"

"Just be your usual charming self," Moriarty told her smoothly, grinning back in that self-assured manner of his. Elspeth hated how he was always so full of confidence, acting as if nothing in the world fazed him or made him scared. Moriarty wasn't human. "Be charm personified," he added as an afterthought, smirking at the dark look Elspeth shot his way. She could be charming. She'd show him.

Elspeth was relieved when she didn't bump her head or trip on her skirt as she climbed out of the car, giving Sebastian one last angry glower when he grinned at her. He loved teasing her.

Striding to her side, Moriarty extended his arm to Elspeth while Sebastian walked ahead of them. For a second, Elspeth was tempted to ignore him and walk by Sebastian's side, then remembered her promise to herself. She was going to behave – be charm personified, as Moriarty had to put it, and Elspeth knew that she could do that. She'd charmed her way into a tour of the Elizabeth Tower before, even if it was only to get someone out of harm's way when she realised they were in danger of getting shot.

So Elspeth put her hand in Moriarty's arm and walked alongside him, feeling the soft material of her dress against her ankles. She'd been surprised at how well Moriarty had done when he picked a dress for her.

She couldn't believe that Jim Moriarty had better taste in clothes than she did.

"Be nice," Moriarty reminded her when they reached the door.

"I'm going to kick you next time you say that," Elspeth muttered, then gave the doorman a charming smile as he offered her a glass of champagne, which she politely declined. Function or no function, she was still underage. Plus she didn't want to do something stupid under the influence of alcohol, especially when there were so many people there.

The room was huge, expensive looking chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and heavy, velvet curtains drawn back to reveal the lights of London, which illuminated the city in the night. A large bar took up a portion of the room and several people were crowded by it, making polite conversation with each other while sipping glasses of wine and champagne; it wasn't like any place Elspeth had ever been. She was glad she let Moriarty pick out her dress, even more so when she saw what the other women were wearing. They all looked incredibly classy and elegant.

"I feel underdressed," Elspeth said under her breath. Her grip on Moriarty's arm tightened for a few seconds and he laughed quietly, turning to murmur in her ear.

"You're the most beautiful one here," he promised. Elspeth tried not to scoff at him, a shiver running down her spine when he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing against her skin. Moriarty smiled at her when Elspeth looked at him, her gaze uncertain, and put his arm around her waist. "As much as I like talking to you, Ellie, we must interact with the other guests well."

Elspeth rolled her eyes, but didn't protest as he guided her into the crowd of people. She didn't try to pull away from Moriarty either; she felt much steadier with him holding her.

"James Moriarty, did you really think you could get away with not saying hello?" an unfamiliar voice asked from behind them. Moriarty smiled to himself, letting go of Elspeth as he turned and embraced the woman who had spoken. She was around the same age as him, tall and pale, with long dark hair that hanged in loose curls by her shoulders. They were obviously familiar with each other. Grinning from ear to ear, the woman playfully punched Moriarty on the arm. "Well? Aren't you going to introduce me to your date?"

She had a thick Irish accent, identical to Moriarty's, and Elspeth's eyes flickered between them as she felt more and more confused.

"Janine, this is Ellie," Moriarty explained. "Ellie, this is my twin sister, Janine."

"_Older_ twin sister," Janine corrected with a smirk that was identical to Moriarty's, flicking her hair off her shoulder. She looked rather pretty in a lilac sleeveless dress. Moriarty rolled his eyes, grumbling under his breath that they were born only a minute about, but Elspeth grinned from ear to ear.

"Hi," she said, shaking Janine's hand. "It's nice to meet you. Jim never told me about you."

"James, I am offended," Janine said with a teasing look in her eyes, which were the exact same shade as Moriarty's, Elspeth realised. "How's he been treating you, then?" she asked. "It's been a _long_ time since little Jimmy had a girlfriend."

Elspeth was about to correct Janine, but felt Moriarty's eyes on her. She smiled. "He's alright, I guess," she said with a grin in his direction.

Janine's eyes twinkled. She was about to say something when they were joined by another man, who was slightly taller and more slender than Moriarty. He carried himself with a confidence that bordered on cockiness, handing Janine a glass of champagne with a smooth drawl of, "Here you are, darling."

"James, you remember Victor Trevor, don't you? Victor, this is Ellie – I'm sorry, what's your surname?"

"Holmes," Victor said before Elspeth could, taking her aback. She raised her eyebrows.

"I'm sorry, have we met?"

"No, but I knew your father. Sherlock and I were _very_ good friends at university." There was a look in Victor's eyes that Elspeth didn't like, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. Victor didn't seem like the sort of man she could trust. "Last thing I heard about you was that you were a little girl. You've certainly grown, haven't you?"

"That's what people do," Elspeth said, not bothering to soften her tone. "I don't Dad ever mentioned you, you know."

Victor smirked back at her. Janine chirped up, "Victor's just got back from America. He's got a mysterious new business partner he won't tell me anything about."

"All you need to know if he's tall, dark, and _very_ handsome," Victor told Janine with a smirk that screamed _I know something you don't know_. Elspeth frowned back at him. She couldn't imagine her father ever being friends with someone like Victor Trevor, especially not when the man in front of her kept acting smug and obnoxious and really rather patronising, but Elspeth didn't know what Sherlock had been like at university. Perhaps he was like Victor. She sincerely hoped not.

As if noticing her irritation, Moriarty slid his arm around Elspeth again and said, "Come on, honey, let's get a drink."

"Catch up soon, yeah?" Janine kissed Moriarty on the cheek and grinned at Elspeth. "Nice to meet you, Ellie."

Elspeth made the effort to smile at Janine and tried not to glare at Victor, even when he winked at her as he allowed Janine to drag him away by the hand. She thought Moriarty was bad; he was practically a saint in comparison. Elspeth couldn't believe that Moriarty had a sister she'd never known about, realising just how little she actually knew about him despite the time they had spent together. She pursed her lips together and wondered what else she didn't know about Moriarty.

"Were you ever going to tell me you had a twin sister?" Elspeth asked when the pair reached the bar, leaning against it as she pulled away from Moriarty so she could look at him. He frowned back at her.

"I didn't realise I had to."

"You don't, but that's a pretty big thing to keep secret. Especially since I'm kind of pretending to be your girlfriend."

"We don't have to pretend," Moriarty murmured with a smirk, making a point of leaning in towards her. Elspeth pulled away, put her hand on Moriarty's chest and, to the best of her ability, pushed him back. He laughed. "You can't always play hard to get, Ellie, one day you're going to give in . . ." his voice trailed off, taking on a high pitched tone when he reached the end of his sentence, and Elspeth rolled her eyes.

"You're disgusting."

"I thought we were past the name calling."

"You wish," she retorted. Elspeth turned away from Moriarty, stiffening when he put his arm around her again, pulling her a little closer to him. She didn't pull away or push him off because she knew it would be pointless, so Elspeth tried to relax and ignored the way Moriarty's fingers gently pressed into her hip, holding her in place. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Oh yes," Moriarty said with a wide grin. "Smile, dear, people are watching." As if to prove a point, Moriarty turned and kissed the side of Elspeth's head, his lips lingering for a few seconds too long. "If I go order us both a drink, can I trust you to behave?"

"You're leaving me on my own?" Elspeth raised her eyebrows at him. "Don't you want to tie me to a stool, make sure I don't run off?"

Moriarty smirked, pinching her chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Don't tempt me."

He ran his thumb along her bottom lip, then let go of Elspeth and sauntered away. Scowling, Elspeth turned and sat down on the nearest bar stool, shaking her head when the waitress offered her a drink. Elspeth couldn't understand Moriarty. Sometimes they got on, and those were the times that Elspeth really enjoyed; they talked, even had a laugh. But every time he came close to appearing almost human, Moriarty would ruin it by, well, being himself.

Elspeth sighed, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes and wondering why things had to be so difficult.

"Is this seat taken?"

Glancing to her side, Elspeth shook her head. The man who had asked the question sat next to her, ordered a drink that she had never even heard of, then removed his glasses for a few seconds in order to clean them. She didn't know why, but Elspeth suddenly felt rather exposed sitting next to him. It was like he could tell all of her secrets just by looking at her.

"Miss Holmes, am I mistaken?" the man asked. Elspeth stared at him in shock.

"How do you –"

"Charles Augustus Magnussen." His eyes rested on Elspeth again, small and narrow and so light that they looked grey. They were cold and flat, with no emotion behind them, and Elspeth struggled to keep eye contact with him. She knew his name. He had something to do with the newspapers – he owned one, she thought – but it was hard to think when Elspeth was caught under his calculating gaze. He reminded her of a shark. "I'm sorry to hear about your father's untimely demise. Most unfortunate."

Magnussen's sympathies didn't sound at all sincere. It was as if he was just repeating what everyone else had said. Elspeth didn't respond at first, trying not to squirm under his stare.

"Erm – thanks . . ." Elspeth's voice trailed off. She looked around, searching for Moriarty.

"I find it curious that you should attend an event like this on Jim Moriarty's arm," Magnussen commented. "All things considered."

"I hardly think that's any of your business," Elspeth replied, struggling to keep her composure.

Magnussen's laughter was low and just as insincere as his sympathy, sending a shiver down Elspeth's spine. "_Everything_," he said. "is my business."

Elspeth had never felt so relieved to see Moriarty, jumping up from her stool and walking away from Magnussen with a lump in her throat. Her hands trembled and her face was pale when she reached Moriarty's side.

"What's wrong?" Moriarty demanded. He put the drinks in his hands down and cupped Elspeth's chin, forcing her to look up at him.

"I – erm . . . I met Magnussen," Elspeth explained with a shaky laugh. "Great guy. Really pleasant. Is that for me?" she picked up the water Moriarty had fetched her and drank it so fast she almost gave herself hiccups, trying not to think about what Magnussen had said to her. She couldn't understand why he had shaken her so much but felt grateful when Moriarty rested his hand on the small of her back, pulling her as close as was decently possible.

"Ignore him," Moriarty murmured in a low voice, feeling Elspeth shake. "Ignore everything he said, he just likes to get under people's skin." Moriarty had met Magnussen before. He despised the older man, and couldn't understand how Janine could stand to work for him. She saw him every day and yet never had a bad word to say about him, but Moriarty highly suspected it was out of fear rather than anything else.

The orchestra started to play, couples gathering in the centre of the room to dance, and Moriarty turned to Elspeth.

"Shall we?" he asked, extending a hand towards her.

They reached the dance floor, one of Moriarty's hands curling around her waist while the other held Elspeth's, his fingers weaving through her own like the first time they had danced. It was different though. Less intimate. Moriarty didn't hold her as close as he had, and Elspeth didn't feel quite as giddy, but after hearing Magnussen's comment she supposed it was a good thing.

Sighing, Elspeth let her head rest on Moriarty's shoulder. She didn't care who was watching.

Across the room, Victor was dancing with Janine, holding her far too close to be appropriate. Sebastian was dancing with a pretty blonde woman not too far from Elspeth and Moriarty, winking when Elspeth caught his eye.

"You've been wonderful tonight," Moriarty told Elspeth with a hint of pride in his voice. Elspeth lifted her head enough to smile back at him.

"You've not been too bad yourself," she teased. Her smile faded a little. "Magnussen –"

"Don't," Moriarty interrupted with an unhappy frown. "Don't – don't think about him. You shouldn't let him get to you, he's not important." He was protesting so much that Elspeth wondered if he was trying to convince her or himself, but she didn't say anything, hoping that it was true. Magnussen scared her, but somehow Elspeth knew she could trust Moriarty. Or at least try to.

Lifting his glass to his lips, Magnussen watched Elspeth as she rested her head on Moriarty's shoulder for a second time, stepping a bit closer while they danced. Interesting. Her reactions had been quite spectacular, even if he did say so himself, and it made Magnussen smile to himself as he thought about them. He knew all about the history between Jim Moriarty and Elspeth Holmes – he had said so himself, after all, that everything was his business – so he couldn't help but feel fascinated by their interactions, watching their every move.

Magnussen finished his drink and smirked to himself. Fear made people so easy to control and manipulate, and Magnussen knew that he had Moriarty and Elspeth right where he wanted them.

* * *

><p><em>Thank you That-Crazy-Psycho, Capricornwholovesbooks, tinuviel21 and Adrillian1497 for reviewing! <em>

_So many new characters . . . what is going on?! You'll find out soon enough . . . in case anyone was wondering, the song Jim and Ellie were dancing to at the beginning of the chapter is Nick Cave: O Children. You may recognise it from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows; it's honestly a brilliant song, I hope my description did it justice! _


	9. Chapter 9

_**9.**_

Summer ended and autumn began with a gust of wind, leaves turning golden brown and stores beginning their displays of holidays – Halloween was on its way, after all – and each day brought Elspeth's birthday even closer, a fact she tried not to dwell on too much. She'd never been one to get too excited about her birthdays, but knowing it would be the first without Sherlock present filled Elspeth with an even deeper sense of dread. She had no idea what it was going to be like.

She didn't mention it to Moriarty or Sebastian; Elspeth rather hoped that neither of them would know. All Elspeth wanted was to get through the day without any fuss.

The day started just like any other day.

Elspeth woke up in her bed, took a few minutes to simply lie and stare up at the ceiling, and realised that she was officially one year older. She didn't feel that much older. Seventeen. One year away from being an adult, Elspeth thought with a small smile, rolling onto her side. She wondered if she was supposed to feel older, or if seventeen was a huge difference from sixteen, and sighed. If Sherlock was there, maybe Elspeth would've felt different. More excited, perhaps.

Pushing her duvet back, Elspeth wriggled her bra on under her t-shirt and pulled a jumper, feeling the chill of the autumn morning. She could hear noises coming from the kitchen.

"Happy birthday!" Moriarty sung when Elspeth wandered through to the dining room. She grimaced.

"Uh – thanks."

"Don't sound too enthusiastic," he muttered.

"Sorry, it's just . . . I've never really understood the point of birthdays." Elspeth opened the fridge and picked up the orange juice, pouring herself a glass. "It's like – congratulations! You're getting older!_ Bleh_." Elspeth stuck her tongue out. "I don't want a fuss today."

"So I'm guessing you don't want _this_." Moriarty took an envelope from his pocket, waving it in front of Elspeth, and she frowned back at him.

"What is it?"

"No, no, you don't want a fuss so I'll just –"

Elspeth snatched the envelope from him before he could finish his sentence and Moriarty smirked, watching her rip it open. She'd been expecting a card of some sort; Elspeth's eyes widened when she held up the pair of tickets that had been inside the envelope, her mouth falling open as she read the writing across them.

"No way," Elspeth whispered. "What – _how_?" In her hand were tickets for a new, expensive, and _very_ exclusive art show. It was the sort of event that Elspeth would sell her arm for if it meant that she got a ticket. "Are these really for me?"

"Well, one of them is actually for me."

"I can't believe this."

Moriarty frowned, his lips pursing together as he gazed back at Elspeth in slight confusion. He hadn't expected that reaction from her, especially not when she saw the tickets. "Is that a good thing?"

"Yeah," Elspeth breathed out, continuing to stare down at the tickets in disbelief. She couldn't wrap her head around it; Moriarty had obviously gone through a lot of trouble to get her those tickets, and all for a birthday that she wished wouldn't happen. "Oh my God, yeah, that's so amazing. Thank you so much!" Elspeth didn't think as she flung her arms around Moriarty's neck, hugging him as hard as she could. "I'd better go put some clothes on!"

She let go of Moriarty as quickly as she had hugged him and darted out of the kitchen, racing back to her bedroom. Moriarty laughed and shook his head. _That_ was the reaction he had been hoping for.

And Sebastian thought it was a waste of time.

"Hurry up, Ellie, we've got to go soon," Moriarty called down the corridor. He'd been up for hours and was immaculately dressed – as usual. Elspeth shouted back that she needed at least a few minutes to make herself look decent and then slammed her bedroom door shut so she wouldn't hear any more of his complaints that she was being too slow for his liking. Moriarty rolled his eyes.

"I want to look halfway decent, at least," Elspeth said as she strode back into the kitchen, pulling a cardigan on over the top of the dress she was wearing – floral, knee length, and very girly. It was the most feminine Moriarty had seen her for a long time, his eyes stuck on the part where the dress ended and her legs began. "Hair up or down?"

"Up."

Elspeth smiled back and left the kitchen, and Moriarty watched her go.

"Ok, I'm ready," she announced when she returned, her hair tied back and her coat slung over one arm. "Oh, don't forget your coat," Elspeth added, picking Moriarty's coat up as she passed and handing it to him. "It looks kinda chilly out there."

"What would I do without you?" Moriarty murmured. His hand brushed against hers when he took the coat and Elspeth grinned brightly at him over her shoulder.

"Crash and burn – obviously."

"Excuse me, who has an international business network, their own apartment and several cars?" Moriarty retorted. "Oh yeah – _me._"

"And your life is _so _much brighter knowing that I'm in it," Elspeth teased with a laugh, walking backwards for a few steps with a twinkle in her eyes. Moriarty smiled back, rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything, which didn't go unnoticed by Elspeth; there was a bit more of a spring in her step when she turned around again, her skirt swishing. "So, how'd you get those tickets anyway? I've tried a _million_ times before."

"It helps to have connections," Moriarty said smoothly. Elspeth opened to her mouth to say something but he interjected, "And no, I did _not_ steal them, before you ask."

"Are you sure? Because that seems like the sort of thing you would do," Elspeth said. Moriarty raised his eyebrows. "I'm _joking_." Elspeth didn't know why she had perked up so much. She supposed it was because she was excited to be going to an art gallery, one of the things she had missed the most, but Elspeth also felt like she was enjoying Moriarty's company. "Have you got spare change?"

Moriarty frowned. "Yes," he said, confusion colouring his tone. "Why?"

"Because." Elspeth grabbed Moriarty's hand and dragged him away from his car when he started to gravitate towards it. "We're getting the bus today."

"What?" Moriarty tore his hand from Elspeth's and stared at her.

"We're getting the bus," Elspeth repeated slowly. "Come _on_! It'll be fun – when was the last time you used public transport?" She didn't give Moriarty a chance to answer before adding, "It's my birthday, so we have to do everything I want. And I want to get a bus, so come on." She tugged on Moriarty's hand and he let her pull him towards the nearest bus stop with some reluctance, grumbling under his breath. He couldn't remember the last time he had used public transport, and with good reason; it was always so crowded and messy, and the people had no manners.

But Elspeth was insistent and it was her birthday, like she said, so Moriarty just went along with what she said.

Moriarty let Elspeth sit down first and she moved along so he could take the seat next to her, slinging his arm around the back as he usually did. Elspeth smiled at him, trying not to giggle when she realised how out of place Moriarty looked, and then turned to gaze out of the window with wide eyes, grinning from ear to ear.

She'd missed London. Of course she still lived there, and it seemed that Moriarty was beginning to trust Elspeth, but she had missed it so much. She missed running down all the back streets, trying to keep up with Sherlock and John even though she was helplessly out of breath, and those small pubs that John liked to have lunch in when they were between cases, and the noise and smell of Camden Market. Elspeth had missed popping into art galleries when she had a free afternoon and spending a couple of hours in the library with a college textbook.

One day, Elspeth decided silently, she would take Moriarty around London – the London that _she _knew.

"How are you enjoying the bus so far?" Elspeth murmured, her lips twitching into a smirk. Moriarty grimaced as the bus bumped along the road.

"This is horrible," he complained.

"You get used to it. Plus, it's _so_ much cheaper than a taxi." Elspeth laughed at the dark look Moriarty shot her. "I'm really not convincing you, am I?"

"Nope."

"I tried though."

"Tried my patience," Moriarty muttered under his breath, turning away, and Elspeth laughed again as she gazed out of the window. Moriarty's fingers drummed against the seat behind her in a random manner and Elspeth listened to the sound, resting her head against the glass next to her so she could feel the vibrations of the engine when the bus stopped.

Moriarty watched Elspeth for a few seconds, and when she glanced his way, she gave him a shy smile – small and secretive, like no one else could see them in that space of time.

After a moment, Moriarty smiled back.

It wasn't a long walk from the bus stop to the gallery. Moriarty strolled, making sure not to lengthen his strides too much so Elspeth could keep up with him. Feeling like she might burst from excitement, Elspeth bounded up the steps to the gallery and beamed at Moriarty when he handed their tickets over. Moriarty grinned back and offered his hand to Elspeth; she didn't even think as she reached out and took it.

"This is so cool," Elspeth said under her breath.

"Try to contain yourself," Moriarty said with a smirk. "This is an art gallery, after all."

Elspeth elbowed him. "I've been to art galleries before," she retorted. "I think I know how to behave."

Moriarty grinned; he loved teasing Elspeth. He didn't say a word, however, as she took him around the exhibit and told him about the paintings that were on display. Elspeth was very knowledgeable, the words rolling off her tongue with practised ease, and when he saw the shine in her eyes as she discussed the art with him, Moriarty knew that Elspeth was truly passionate about it. It was wonderful to see.

Not everyone seemed to share Elspeth's enthusiasm. Quite a few of the other people there gave her strange looks, especially when she appeared considerably younger than most of them, and Moriarty glared back at them, daring them to say something. He wasn't going to let them scare Elspeth off.

Elspeth seemed to notice, though, and got more and more self-conscious as she went on. Her voice trailing off and her cheeks turning pink, Elspeth looked over at Moriarty.

"Am I doing something wrong?" she asked quietly.

"No," Moriarty assured her. "They just forgot to take the sticks out of their arses this morning." Elspeth tried – and failed – to smother her laughter, turning away so no one else would notice. Grinning, Moriarty leaned forwards to murmur in her ear, "How about we ditch the snobs and have fun somewhere else?"

"I thought you would never ask," Elspeth said with a grin of her own, grabbing Moriarty's hand as the pair sneaked out of the room together.

* * *

><p>"I am going to show you London like you've never seen it before," Elspeth announced, walking alongside Moriarty. She stopped by a staircase that disappeared underground. "And that is starting with the Tube."<p>

Moriarty grimaced but followed Elspeth when she disappeared down the stairs, pushing his way through the crowd while she darted in and out with ease, pausing to let him catch up with her. They stopped by a map and Moriarty watched Elspeth track their route, running her finger along the lines, and when she'd worked out where they were going, she grabbed Moriarty's hand again.

They made a mad dash for the train before it left the station, narrowly missing being trapped between the doors, and it was so crowded that they had to stand up. Elspeth held onto one of the poles and Moriarty stood behind her with his hand just above hers, his arm both steady and trapping her. Elspeth could feel his breath on the back of her neck, his chest against her back, and Moriarty's hand on her waist held her upright when the train jolted unexpectedly.

"Clumsy," he murmured. Elspeth's cheeks burned.

"Sorry," Elspeth said under her breath, struggling to keep eye contact with him. Moriarty's hand tightened on her waist for a second before he let go of her.

They reached their stop and pushed their way through the crowd to get to the doors, making another dash up one staircase and down another to reach the next train on time. Moriarty was relieved there were seats free. He wasn't sure if he enjoyed all this rushing around, but when he glanced over at Elspeth and saw the way she was grinning, Moriarty decided that it was worth it.

"Come on, this is our stop."

Elspeth jumped up from her seat and Moriarty followed, and he could hear music playing when they approached the escalators. He had no idea where Elspeth had brought him.

The air was startlingly cool in comparison to the stuffiness of the underground. Elspeth took a few seconds to adjust, tucking her hair behind her ears when the breeze blew it in her eyes, and then looked around at the familiar settings. She could see the eclectic mix of colours and styles from down the road, accepting a flyer for a new club from a bored looking employee when he held it out to her and turning to grin at Moriarty, who looked completely and utterly confused by his surroundings.

"Where are we?" Moriarty demanded with an unimpressed frown. Elspeth laughed.

"You've never been here?" she guessed. Moriarty gave her a look as if to say _what do you think? _"You've seriously never been here before? This is Camden Market!"

Camden Market. Moriarty had heard of it, of course – who hadn't? – from Sebastian, who seemed to have a certain fondness for the place. Moriarty had never been though. It didn't appeal to him.

Elspeth, however, was ecstatic to have returned. Her purse was in her bag and full of money she'd been saving for no definite reason, and it was her birthday after all. Camden Market had always been one of her favourite places in London, and she loved the range of people she met there; all the artists and musicians and hippies and goths and lots of different cultures gathered in the market, creating a mad tapestry of colour and culture and language.

She felt a little bit disappointed when she realised Moriarty didn't find it as amazing as she did, wondering if she could somehow change his mind. It was time Elspeth showed him how she lived.

"It's my birthday," Elspeth reminded Moriarty. "We get to do what I want, remember?"

"Doesn't mean I have to like it," Moriarty grumbled.

"Yes it does, so cheer up, alright?" Elspeth playfully poked Moriarty in the arm and he gave her a sideways glance, looking as if he was trying not to smile at her. She batted her eyelashes. "Please cheer up," she pleaded. "_Pretty _please. For me."

"You're impossible," Moriarty muttered, unable to stop himself from smiling.

Smiling back, Elspeth held her hand out to Moriarty. He didn't hesitate to take it.

The market was filled with people and the stalls were nothing like Moriarty had ever seen before. Elspeth stopped at every one of them, pawing through the t-shirts and multi coloured hoodies and homemade jewellery. She brought herself an armful of bracelets that jangled and sung when she shook her wrists, then a couple of colourful t-shirts from the next stall. Moriarty didn't even touch the things on sale.

"You've got to relax," Elspeth told him, pocketing the key ring in the shape of an eyeball she'd just bought and picking up a scented tea candle. "You're putting too much thought into it. Just . . . forget Jim Moriarty for a few hours."

Moriarty gave her a dubious look. "Do you often conveniently forget your own name when in places like this?" he sneered.

Elspeth glared back at him. "You're overthinking," she accused. "This is the London I know, and it may not be all posh and neat and full of snobs making polite conversation, but that doesn't necessarily mean you should turn your nose up at it. So stop being such a snob and try to enjoy yourself for once."

He was lost for words – not that Moriarty would ever admit that. Elspeth didn't expect an answer though, turning and walking away to the next stall. She couldn't help but smirk a little when Moriarty followed her.

It was hard, but Moriarty tried to follow Elspeth's advice. He stopped sneering at the cheap prices and the lack of designer clothing, and instead watched Elspeth, captivated by the way she kept searching with such determination and haggled with the market traders for lower prices. She was stubborn and young and pretty, and every single one of them fell for Elspeth's charm.

The pair left one part of the market and headed for another, the scent of various food stalls lingering in the air. Even Jim Moriarty needed to eat sometimes.

"What do you fancy?" Elspeth asked. "And no, before you ask, there isn't anywhere to sit down."

"I wasn't going to suggest anything of the sort," Moriarty assured her. Elspeth stuck her tongue out at him. They got food and found somewhere to sit, side by side on a bench with a pair of strangers sitting across from them – tourist, Elspeth realised, with cameras around their necks and maps on their laps. Moriarty turned to murmur in her eye, "Are you enjoying your birthday, then?"

"It's been alright," Elspeth said casually, shrugging. She grinned. "I've still loads more to show you."

"Sounds promising."

Laughing, Elspeth elbowed Moriarty in the side. "You're being disgusting," she said. "We were having a moment and you totally just ruined it. I hope you're happy with yourself."

"Oh, we were having a moment?" Moriarty teased, sliding his arm around Elspeth's shoulders and leaning in towards her with a gleam in his eyes. Elspeth raised her eyebrows, staring back at him with an expression that was torn between amusement and being unimpressed. Moriarty's voice turned sinfully low. "We can always . . . _continue_ with the moment, if that's what you want."

He moved even closer and Elspeth leaned back, putting her hand on Moriarty's chest to stop him.

"No," she said. "I really, _really_ don't want to." Elspeth looked away, finished her lunch, and then gathered her rubbish. "Come on, hurry up and finish your food. There's so much stuff I want to see."

Elspeth jumped up from her seat and Moriarty followed her, trying to catch her hand again when she strode away; laughing, Elspeth dodged out of his way and darted down some steps, leaving him to try and catch up with her.

"Have you ever been to a vintage store?" Elspeth asked when Moriarty caught up with her.

"I can't remember," Moriarty admitted. "The memory probably scarred me so much I erased it."

"You're being a snob again," Elspeth told him. "I bet you'd love them really – look, there's one! Come on." She grinned and strode into the vintage shop she'd been pointing at, and Moriarty knew that he had no choice but to follow her. It wasn't as bad as he anticipated. The clothes weren't anywhere near the quality of his own, but they weren't as awful as Moriarty initially thought they would be.

That didn't mean that he understood Elspeth's fascination with vintage clothing, though.

"It's not _that_ bad," Moriarty said reluctantly when Elspeth gave him an expectant look. He leaned against the rail Elspeth was exploring and watched her.

"I love this stuff," she said. "It's so amazing. Take this, for example." Elspeth held up a brightly pattern shirt and held it against herself. "Where are you going to find something else like this? Who else in the world will have a shirt exactly like this? Probably no one, because it's bloody hideous, but you get my point, right?"

Moriarty nodded. His family didn't have much money when they were growing up, so he'd always been drawn to designer clothing and other extravagant items; Janine was the same. He knew for a fact that she liked to get her nails done and have her hair styled professionally, so it didn't surprise Moriarty that Victor Trevor – who was very much the same – was drawn to his sister. He just had to remember to keep a close eye on the pair. Moriarty wouldn't appreciate Janine being taken advantage of.

"Ok," Elspeth said with a grin. "I'll stop torturing you now. We can leave."

* * *

><p>Elspeth gazed up at the ceiling of the living room, her head propped up with a couple of cushions and her arms wrapped around herself while she laid on her back, her feet resting on the arm of the sofa. She'd had a good day but she was tired and left to dwell on her thoughts, which was never good; Elspeth's mind wandered to Sherlock, and she remembered that it was the first birthday she'd spent without him since she was three.<p>

She couldn't believe it. It was her birthday and Sherlock wasn't there, and Elspeth couldn't wrap her head around it. She'd spent her birthday with Jim Moriarty, of all people.

A few tears sprung to Elspeth's eyes when she considered it that way. Squeezing her eyes shut, she reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose, wishing things were different. Why couldn't things be different?

"Stop it," Moriarty said, making her jump. He'd been in the shower and his hair was still damp, sticking up in several directions. Elspeth opened her eyes.

"Stop what?" she asked miserably.

"Thinking."

Elspeth laughed, giving Moriarty a dry smile. "If only it was that easy," she muttered. "It's just . . . weird. I've spent every birthday with my Dad since I was three years old, and now he's not here." She sighed. "You know, for my first ever birthday I spent with him – it was my fourth birthday – he threw this party for me, but I didn't have any friends so it was just us and my grandparents and Mycroft, and he got me my first ever sketchbook . . . it was so amazing."

Moriarty made a small noise under his breath and walked through to the kitchen, making himself a cup of tea. Elspeth sighed and continued to talk.

"It's weird, isn't it? How people . . . _die_. One second they're alive, the next, they're gone." Elspeth frowned. "I just wish I knew why he jumped," she murmured.

Freezing, Moriarty let the kettle boil and slowly turned to face Elspeth, who was oblivious to the way he stared at her. She didn't know. Moriarty thought that she knew he was on the roof with Sherlock but she didn't, and Moriarty didn't have the heart to tell her the truth, especially when things had been going so well between them. Elspeth had only just started to trust him – it had taken her long enough – and Moriarty wasn't willing to change that.

So he just continued to make his tea and sat down on the other sofa, watching Elspeth. Her expression turned pensive when she considered everything that had happened that day, and she thought about all the birthdays she'd spent with Sherlock. He'd always tried to make them special, even if he didn't enjoy them that much.

Death really was weird. Elspeth couldn't wrap her head around it still; Sherlock was dead.

"My Dad's dead," Elspeth said aloud. Moriarty glanced her way. "My Dad's dead. My Dad's dead. It's weird saying it. I thought it would get more real the more I said but . . ." her voice trailed off. "I don't know. It's just weird."

Moriarty frowned. "Have you been drinking?" he asked her.

"I wish." Elspeth lifted her head and frowned back at Moriarty. "Sorry, am I boring you?"

"Yeah, a little bit," he said. He was only teasing her, though, and Elspeth picked up one of the cushions behind her head and threw it at him. "That's not very nice, Ellie."

"Hello, I am having a crisis right now – I'm seventeen years old and questioning the fragility of life because my father killed himself, so I think you can excuse me for being_ not very nice_," Elspeth snapped back, scowling at him. "Seriously, it's my birthday! I should be having a mad house party with all my friends and getting drunk illegally, not moping around _here_. With _you_."

"What's wrong with me?" Moriarty retorted. Elspeth glowered back at him.

"Seriously? After everything I said, _that's_ all you care about?"

"Careful, my dear, we're about to fall out. And we wouldn't want that after such a pleasant day, would we?" Moriarty's voice took on a darker tone, sounding so much like a warning that Elspeth stared incredulously at him before rising to her feet, storming out of the room. She slammed her bedroom door shut.

She couldn't believe him. After everything – _everything_ – Moriarty still had the nerve to think that he could and try and control her with a few words. Elspeth wasn't afraid of him anymore and the sooner he learned that, the better.

With a frustrated noise, Elspeth flopped onto her bed.

It was her first birthday without Sherlock and Elspeth felt guilty for having a good day when he was dead and John was probably still grieving and Mycroft was on his own, pretending he didn't care even though Elspeth knew he did, more so than he'd ever let on to anyone. She checked her phone but no one – not even any of her friends – had thought to wish her a happy birthday, and knowing that she spent the day with Jim Moriarty made Elspeth want to cry. She rolled onto her side and curled her legs up to her chest, burying her face into the pillow beside her so Moriarty wouldn't hear her sobs.

Elspeth heard the door open and she squeezed her eyes shut so she wouldn't have to see the pitying look on Moriarty's face. "Please," she begged. "Just . . . leave me alone."

A pause.

Moriarty's footsteps filled the room as he strode forwards, the bed dipping beneath his weight, and Elspeth shied away when he placed a gentle hand on her arm in a means to comfort her. She didn't want comfort, not from him.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Moriarty said in a low murmur, which wasn't much, but it was somewhat of an apology . . . or as close to an apology as Moriarty could get without having to say the words _I'm sorry_. Elspeth didn't say anything, shaking, and she didn't push him off when he put his hand on her arm a second time. She was cold. "I'll leave you alone now."

It wasn't until Moriarty reached the doorway that Elspeth spoke.

"Please," she whispered, sitting up so abruptly that the world spun and her head felt light. Elspeth stared at Moriarty with fear and desperation, tears burning in her eyes, and he stared back at her with raised eyebrows. "Don't go."

He stared back at her. For a brief moment Elspeth thought – hoped – that he would laugh and dismiss the idea.

Elspeth didn't know what was going through her mind. She just needed someone to be there while she cried; she was so deprived of human contact that even Moriarty was a good option for someone to hug, and the thought shook Elspeth to her core. She'd never been a touchy-feely type person. The only person she really had contact with was Sherlock, and the bursts of physical affection were rare; a hug, a kiss on the forehead, holding her hands to help her up when she fell over. They were all things that Elspeth missed.

Moriarty titled his head to the side, watching her. _Give me a reason_, his eyes seemed to say.

"I can't be on my own," Elspeth said. "Please."

She was so young and frightened and vulnerable, the girl who had tried to destroy his business and everything he'd worked for but also the girl Moriarty so longed to save. And Moriarty was the one who saved Elspeth but the reason she was there, the reason she was feeling this way, the reason for everything.

_He's a spider_, Sherlock had said. _A spider at the centre of a web_ – and Elspeth was caught right in the centre.

Silent, Moriarty closed the door again and turned to face Elspeth, shrugging off his jacket. He folded it in half and rested it on the bedside table with a disdained look at the small pile of unwashed clothing Elspeth had thrown to one of the corners of her room, too lazy to sort through it properly. Elspeth watched him as he slid onto the bed next to her, sitting on top of the covers but still there, next to her.

Reaching out, Moriarty brushed Elspeth's tears away from her cheeks with a gentle swipe of his thumbs. For a few seconds Elspeth wondered what he would look like with kinder eyes, a softer smile . . . but then she remembered it was Jim Moriarty, and nothing would change that.

Moriarty appeared comfortable next to her and Elspeth hesitated before shifting closer to him, leaning forwards so her head was resting on his chest. He put his arms around her.

Elspeth could hear Moriarty's heartbeat, thrumming in time with hers, and she knew that by closing the distance between them the way she had, there was no going back. Her hands clung to the fabric of his shirt instinctively, fingers clawing it as she tried to steady herself while she shook, and Elspeth could feel Moriarty's hands on her back, warm even through her shirt. She let out a noise that was torn between a laugh and a sob and buried her face even deeper into his chest so she could block out the world.

Holding her as close as he dared, Moriarty rested his chin on top of the nest of her dark hair and felt Elspeth trembling in his arms, clinging to her like he couldn't bear to let go. Elspeth's tears were hot and damp, wetting his shirt, but he didn't care.

Somehow, without speaking, the pair ended up lying on the bed together, on top of the covers. Moriarty had kicked off his shoes and taken off his tie, and Elspeth was on her side with her forehead resting in the crook of Moriarty's neck and his arm around her kept her safe. Elspeth would've laughed if she wasn't so distraught; feeling safe in the arms of the man who had ruined her life. It was the sort of thing Elspeth would read about in those cheap gossip magazines and scoff at, but now she kind of understood how those poor women felt.

There was no one else for Elspeth to turn to. It felt to Elspeth as if the apartment was their own island, cut off from the rest of society, and she and Moriarty were the only people there. And Elspeth hated him so much but she didn't hate him at the same time, and she'd always be grateful to him for protecting her while simultaneously never being able to fully forgive him.

Feeling Elspeth stiffen next to him, Moriarty's hand went still. He'd been stroking her hair, weaving his fingers through it because he knew it helped calm Elspeth down.

"Do you want me to go?" Moriarty asked, his voice barely a murmur.

"Stay," Elspeth pleaded even though she knew she would regret it, her hands tightening on his shirt. Somehow Elspeth was getting more and more tangled in Moriarty's web. She didn't know how to escape and she didn't even know if she wanted to – and that scared Elspeth more than anything.

* * *

><p><em>Thank you That-Crazy-Psycho, Princely Archer, Adrillian1497 and tardislover1 for reviewing! <em>

_Sorry for the delay in updating; I've been so so busy lately. Good news: I passed my driving test (first time) so that's pretty awesome. Bad news: I've got a lot of Uni deadlines that have sneaked up on me, which sucks. Deadlines are not cool. But anyway, I put a lot of work into this chapter so please please please let me know what you think! _


	10. Chapter 10

_**10.**_

The gunshots rang in Elspeth's ears but she barely flinched as the succession of bullets pierced the target in front of her, and when she was done, Sebastian let out a low whistle.

"You actually hit the target," he commented, impressed. "Something wrong?"

"No," Elspeth snapped back, sounding angrier than she meant to and thrusting the gun into Sebastian's hands. Her stomach clenched when he frowned back at her in confusion. "I'm sorry, things are just really, _really_ nuts right now. My head is all over the place." Elspeth grimaced and ran a hand through her hair, pushing it behind her ear. "Sorry," she said again.

Sebastian didn't know that Moriarty had spent most of the night with Elspeth. It wasn't a big deal because nothing happened, not even when Elspeth buried her face in the crook of Moriarty's neck and held herself there, nestled against him without any intention of moving. At some point during the night she had fallen asleep, still clinging to Moriarty, and she didn't know how long he'd stayed there but when Elspeth woke up the next morning, he was gone.

But Sebastian was convinced that Moriarty was in love with Elspeth – or had at least feelings for her – and Elspeth knew that she could never admit that she'd almost let him kiss her just so she could feel something other than the pain and hurt for one night. It made her feel dirty to even think about it.

"Is everything alright?" Sebastian asked, sounding so concerned that Elspeth looked up. She shook her head. "What's up?"

"Everything," Elspeth said miserably. "Don't worry, we don't have to talk about it."

He let out a small sigh of relief; Sebastian had never been good with feelings and talking. But Elspeth appeared dejected that he realised that she really needed to talk, and after a few seconds of awkward silence, Sebastian cleared his throat.

"We can talk about it," Sebastian said. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "If you want."

"Jim slept in my bed last night," Elspeth blurted out before she could stop himself, blushing furiously when Sebastian's eyes widened. "No – nothing happened, we just – we were on top of the covers, and we slept. That's all we did." She bit her lip. "I was crying and Jim was there and I just . . . _needed_ someone, and it makes me sound like a really terrible person, I know."

"No, it doesn't," Sebastian told her. He frowned. "Jim . . . was in your bed last night, and nothing happened?"

"Yeah. Why is that so hard for you to wrap your head around?"

"Because when I get into bed with a girl, a lot happens."

"That's disgusting," Elspeth said, laughing. She'd started to look at Sebastian like the older brother she never knew she wanted. Sebastian grinned back. "Seriously, Seb, I didn't need to know that."

"Just saying," Sebastian drawled. "I don't see the point of getting into bed with someone unless you're going to –"

"Stop!" Elspeth interrupted, laughing and covering her ears. "Please, just _stop_. "

Sebastian laughed as well, hooking an arm around Elspeth's shoulders and pulling her into a quick – if not slightly awkward – hug. "Look, if something happened or nothing happened at all, it doesn't make either of you bad people," he said. He looked at Elspeth closely. "Do you . . ."

His voice trailed off. Elspeth frowned. "Do I what?"

"You know." Sebastian shifted his weight again and grimaced. "Like Jim? _Like_ like Jim?"

"_Like _like Jim," Elspeth repeated flatly. "Jeez, Sebastian, we're not eleven. And no, I do not . . . _like_ Jim. Not like that. I don't like him in any way other than platonic."

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks," Sebastian quoted. Elspeth stared back at him in shock. "What? I've read Shakespeare, I'm not a complete idiot." He wasn't an idiot at all, actually. A lot of people seemed to think that Sebastian was, but he was smarter than they gave him credit for, and Elspeth only just realised. Moriarty didn't hire idiots. "It's not a crime to feel attracted to someone, you know."

"It is if they're a criminal," Elspeth snapped back. Sebastian raised his eyebrows.

"You can hardly talk," he said. "After everything you've done." Elspeth started to protest but Sebastian interrupted her. "Fighting, assaulting people, breaking and entering – hardly legal."

"Yeah, well, I've never _killed_ anyone."

"You've still broken the law," Sebastian pointed out.

Elspeth glowered up at him for a few seconds, then spluttered, "Shut up, Seb."

"So do you –" Elspeth raised her eyebrows and Sebastian quickly revised his earlier words. "Have feelings for Jim?" he finished. Elspeth shrugged. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's the universal sign for lack of knowledge, more commonly known as _I don't know_." Elspeth narrowed her eyes at Sebastian and added, "Perhaps you aren't as smart as you make yourself out to be."

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Ellie," Sebastian retorted. She smirked. "You two are impossible, I swear. Match made in Heaven."

"So what, has Jim actually _told_ you that he . . ." Elspeth's voice trailed off uncomfortably. "_Loves_ me?"

"Not in so many words, no. But I know Jim better than anyone and the way he acts with you – I've never seen it before. Not with anyone. It's weird," Sebastian said. "Plus you two have got this weird thing where he looks at you when you're not looking and then you look at him when he's not looking. It's really cute. In a sickening kind of way."

"I do not look at him when he's not looking," Elspeth scoffed. "And he doesn't do the same with me. We're not kids in the playground."

"It's not just that. Jim always get this little smile when he says your name and you blush when his hand accidentally brushes against yours and –"

"And you're in the wrong business. You should write romance novels," Elspeth said. "None of that goes on, Sebastian, we're just – just –" she struggled on finding the right word. "I don't know what we are but Jim does not love me and I do not fancy him and I swear to God if you mention it one more time, I'm going to take that gun and shoot you in the knee."

Sebastian gazed at Elspeth. "Why the knee?" he finally asked.

"You'll recover but have a permanent limp," Elspeth explained. "I don't want to _kill_ you."

"Ellie," Sebastian said breathlessly. "You are pure evil." A sly grin spread across his face. "The perfect girl for –" he didn't finish his sentence when Elspeth turned and gave him a sharp look, laughing to himself. "I'm just kidding."

"It isn't funny."

"Come on, Ellie, don't be like that," Sebastian teased. Elspeth glared at him. "Cheer up."

"Leave me alone, Sebastian," Elspeth muttered, turning away. Sebastian hooked his arm around her from behind and held her close, digging his fingers into her sides so she laughed.

"I thought we were friends, Ellie! I thought we were best friends!"

Elspeth squealed with laughter and elbowed Sebastian, trying to get away while he tickled her relentlessly. Her cheeks were flushed when he eventually let go of her, and Elspeth found it a lot harder to be angry at Sebastian after that, smoothing down her hair and giggling. He grinned back. Sebastian liked Elspeth; he was fond of her. He didn't have any brothers or sisters when he was a kid and Elspeth was younger than him, and for some strange reason Sebastian felt the need to look after her.

"If you do that again," Elspeth said, trying to sound as threatening as she could and pointing a finger at him. "I'll shoot both your knees."

"I'd like to see you try," Sebastian said, playfully chucking Elspeth under the chin. She batted his hand away.

"Quit it," she grumbled. "I'm not a kid."

Sebastian laughed. "The kid sister I never wanted, more like," he said with an arm around her shoulders, the pair walking out of the shooting range together. "Come on. Time to go home."

* * *

><p>"There you are," Moriarty called when Sebastian opened the front door, and when Elspeth trailed in after him, she realised that they had company.<p>

"Hello again," Janine said, sitting at the dining table with a drink in her hand. Moriarty's eyes met Elspeth's for a brief second, his eyebrows raised a fraction.

"Hi Janine," Elspeth said with a pleasant smile, shrugging off her jacket and walking through to the kitchen so she could make herself a cup of tea. "Jim didn't say you were coming." She gave Moriarty a playful, accusing glare and he grinned sheepishly, overacting for his sister's benefit. Janine laughed.

"He didn't know, it's just a flying visit really."

"Where were you today?" Moriarty asked, wandering through to the kitchen and wrapping an arm around Elspeth. He smirked when she glanced his way irritably. He was enjoying this far more than she was. "I missed you."

"I was at the shooting range with Sebastian," Elspeth told him. Moriarty raised his eyebrows higher, his pressing into Elspeth's hip, and she smirked. "Didn't you know? We're having a mad, passionate love affair and running away together next week. Sorry."

"Such a joker," Moriarty murmured with a gleam in his eyes. He didn't look angry.

Elspeth pulled away so she could make her tea, and when she walked back to the dining table, Moriarty's hand rested very gently on the small of her back, guiding her. He sat next to her with his arm draped over the back of her chair and when Janine gave her brother an expectant look, Elspeth realised that they must've been in the middle of a conversation when she'd walked in.

"Well?" Janine asked.

"No."

"But _Jim_," she whined, pouting. "We hardly ever go home and it's _Christmas_, for goodness sake. You know how sad mam gets this time of year, all cooped up in that big house alone. She's been so lonely since da died –"

"He died when we were teenagers, Janine," Moriarty interrupted, sounding bored. Elspeth wondered if they had this conversation a lot. "You can go home for Christmas if you want, just don't expect me to tag along."

Elspeth gazed at Moriarty in mild shock. She loved Christmas. She loved putting up the decorations and playing cheesy Christmas songs while baking – or trying to bake – with Mrs Hudson. The streets of London would light up and every shop would have fully decorated trees in their windows, and loads of people at college wore those novelty Santa hats or reindeer antlers, and then there were the presents and Christmas dinner to look forwards to. Moriarty's tone made it seem like the whole day was a burden rather than a holiday.

"Well, you see, the thing is . . ." Janine's voice trailed off and it was her turn to grin sheepishly, her eyes flickering between Moriarty and Elspeth. "I was on the phone with mam and she asked how you were because you hardly ever ring her and you know how she worries –"

"What have you done?" Moriarty demanded in a hard tone.

"I happened to mention that you were seeing someone," Janine blurted out. It took Elspeth a second to realise that Janine meant her, but Moriarty knew straight away. Janine winced. "I'm sorry, it just slipped out, but now she wants to meet Ellie. You know what she's like."

"Thanks a lot," Moriarty grumbled, leaning back in his seat.

"Sorry," Janine said with a grimace in Elspeth's direction.

"That's alright. It can't be that bad, can it?"

Moriarty and Janine grimaced in unison, and Elspeth realised that it really was that bad. She sank back in her seat. Pretending to be Moriarty's girlfriend in front of his sister was one thing, but doing it in front of his mother? She wasn't sure if she could manage that.

Elspeth looked over at Moriarty, expecting him to talk his way out of it, come up with some great excuse. He was good with things like that.

But he just sighed and said, "Fine, I'll call her this evening and let her know we're coming."

"Great!" Janine said brightly. She picked up her coat and bag, hugging them to her chest, and rose to her feet. "I'd better get back before Magnussen realises my lunch break is nearly over. It was nice to see you again, Ellie."

"Yeah," Elspeth said weakly. "You too."

Moriarty walked Janine to the front door and the second she was gone, Elspeth moaned, leaning against the table with her head in her arms. Sebastian, who had been sitting on the sofa throughout the entire conversation, laughed in a not so sympathetic manner and Moriarty gently rested his hand on the spot between her shoulder blades.

"Get off," Elspeth grumbled, her voice muffled. Moriarty chuckled and she sat up, glaring at him. "You are such a tosser, you know that? I can't meet your mum! I'm not your girlfriend! We are not together – she'll see right through it in a second!"

"Oh I don't know, you were pretty convincing a minute ago," Sebastian called.

"Shut _up_, Sebastian."

"You'll be fine," Moriarty assured her, reaching out and brushing Elspeth's hair behind her ear. She scowled, jerked away, and stormed past him. Her bedroom door slammed shut. Moriarty sighed. "Tiger," he said. "Could you give us a minute?"

Sebastian didn't want to get caught in the middle of a fight between Moriarty and Elspeth – though he wouldn't mind witnessing one, if he was completely honest, because he was morbidly curious about who would win – and nodded, striding out of the apartment without a word. He had a nice, quiet, uneventful flat to return to, and the thought of a long shower beckoned him.

Strolling down the corridor, Moriarty paused outside Elspeth's room and knocked on the door.

"Piss off," Elspeth snapped. He opened the door anyway. "What part of _piss off _did you not understand?"

"You know, I'm sort of getting the impression that you're nervous about meeting my mam," Moriarty said. He sat down on the end of Elspeth's bed and she glared back at him.

"Really? What was your first clue?"

"Why?"

Elspeth's glare softened and she shifted a little, considering her words. "Because," she began, feeling vulnerable. "I'm not the sort of girl that boys bring home to meet their parents. Ever." She hugged her knees to her chest. "_Never_ ever."

Moriarty frowned. "Really?"

"Really," Elspeth said. "I have never met a boyfriend's parents – real or pretend." And Elspeth was alright with that. Meeting parents was a big deal. It suggested commitment. It was like saying _hey, mum and dad, here's the girl I've spent a significant amount of time seeing and I want you to meet her so I can get your approval in case I decide I want to marry her._ Elspeth didn't want that. She wasn't afraid of it but she wasn't big on commitment, and she supposed she only had Mycroft and Sherlock to thank for that, as neither of them had even entertained the notion of meeting someone and settling down with them.

Pretending to be Moriarty's girlfriend in front of his mother and his sister sort of terrified Elspeth a bit. More than a bit. A lot.

Moriarty frowned, gazing at Elspeth. "You don't have to be afraid," he said finally. "It's not as bad as you think."

"Do you know why my friends met their boyfriend's parents? Because they were convinced that they were going to marry those boys. I mean, we're only seventeen and eighteen so there's no chance of that happening yet, but they're still together!" Elspeth said incredulously, shaking her head as if the entire thing confused her. She had friends who had been with the same boyfriend or girlfriend for over a year. Her longest relationship was a couple of weeks. "I can't do that. I'm not like that."

"Are you suggesting that we're going to get married?" Moriarty asked, wriggling his eyebrows at Elspeth with a cheeky grin. She scowled back. "I don't see what the problem is, if I'm completely honest. We already live together."

"In the most unconventional sense of the word," Elspeth muttered. She looked back at Moriarty with wide eyes, lashes fluttering when she blinked. "I hardly know you. I don't even know your favourite colour."

There was a long pause while Elspeth's words settled in.

"Gold."

Elspeth frowned back at him. "Huh?"

"My favourite colour. Gold." A slow grin spread across Moriarty's face. "It's so _regal_."

"Gold's a substance though," Elspeth pointed out with a small crease in her forehead, looking slightly bemused. Moriarty raised his eyebrows. "I'm just saying. Ok, my favourite colour is . . ." her voice trailed off in thought. "I don't know. Orange. Or yellow. Or red." Elspeth shrugged. "I like bright colours."

"What's your favourite food?"

"Pizza," Elspeth said without hesitation. It was Moriarty's turn to look bemused, making her laugh. "What's yours?"

Sighing, Moriarty looked thoughtful. "Mam's homemade stew. She used to make it all the time when Janine and I lived at home."

"Sounds nice," Elspeth said wistfully. "I'm terrible at cooking. And so was Dad. John sometimes had a go when he could be bothered but most of the time Mrs Hudson would do it, and she'd make something huge like a roast dinner or a risotto so we'd have leftovers for a couple of days after." She scrunched her nose up. "I think John was the only one who ate properly."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh you know, three meals a day and all that. It was easier to snack when we were on a case, and I'm hardly ever hungry enough for a huge meal so . . ." Elspeth's voice trailed off. "Having food here was the first time in a month I'd had a proper meal."

"I could tell," Moriarty murmured. Elspeth frowned at him indignantly. "Just saying. You were skinnier than a rake." He reached out and took her wrist, holding it gently as his hand circled it. "You still are."

"You're concerned for my weight?"

"I would hate for something awful to happen to you. It would make things particularly awkward."

"Because things just aren't awkward enough, are they?" Elspeth said dryly, taking her wrist from Moriarty. He raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were dead a couple of months ago, and now you're sitting in my room. Even you have to admit that's pretty awkward."

He laughed. "Just be your usual charming self and you should be fine."

"There's a reason boys don't bring me home to their parents," Elspeth murmured under her breath. She sighed. "What if your mum doesn't like me?" It sounded so ridiculous that even Elspeth smiled when Moriarty started to laugh, but she couldn't get the thought out of her head. She was only pretending to be his girlfriend but Elspeth still wanted to make a good impression. For her benefit, of course. "It's not funny! I'm being serious."

"Sorry, sorry," Moriarty said, still laughing. "You'll be fine. She'll love you."

Elspeth grimaced. She highly doubted it. "Where did we meet?" she asked, so abrupt that it took Moriarty by surprise. "If we're . . . 'together' –" Elspeth used air quotes and scrunched her nose up. "– then we have to come up with a convincing story about how we meet."

"We met through a mutual friend," Moriarty said with a shrug, thinking about Molly. "It's not a lie."

"We met through a mutual friend who you were supposedly dating while pretending to be gay so you could trick my Dad into thinking you were just another admirer," Elspeth said. "Hardly the beginning of a fairy tale." She huffed and leaned back against the bed, and Moriarty moved to sit next to her, his legs outstretched in front of him. "This is not going to work."

"Sure it is." Moriarty bumped his shoulder against Elspeth's and she snorted. "It's going to be so much _fun_!"

"For you, maybe," Elspeth grumbled. Moriarty gave her a sideways glance. "Don't look at me like that, we both know you're enjoying this little game way more than I am."

"You love it really." Moriarty smirked when Elspeth stared at him incredulously. "Don't look at me like that," he teased, reaching out to stroke her hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing against her cheek. "You and I both know that you _love_ this little game of ours." His voice was low and he was so close that Elspeth could feel his breath on her face, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. "You _love_ this."

Moriarty's dark eyes pierced hers and for a mad moment, Elspeth thought that he might kiss her. She didn't know if she would pull away if he did.

"Yeah," Elspeth whispered. "Maybe I do."

His eyes dropped to her lips and Moriarty leaned forwards a fraction, and as he did Elspeth realised that she wasn't going to pull away from him even though she knew that she should because it was so wrong. Moriarty's hand dipped, resting on her neck, and his skin was warm against hers. He could feel her heart race.

The sound of Moriarty's phone ringing made Elspeth jump. Moriarty pulled away with a dark look in his eyes.

"Do you mind if I get that?"

A little taken aback, Elspeth shook her head and watched Moriarty climb off the bed, striding out of the room with his phone at his ear. She let out a shaky breath.

Hearing Moriarty stride through to the kitchen, Elspeth grabbed a clean t-shirt and pair of leggings from the pile of clothes in the corner and darted across the corridor to the bathroom. She turned the shower on.

Truth be told, Elspeth didn't need to wash. She just needed an excuse to hide from Moriarty.

"What is wrong with me?" she whispered. Running both her hands through her hair and biting her lip, Elspeth gazed in the mirror and realised that she barely recognised herself. Her hands trembled so much that she clenched them into fists. With a strangled yell, Elspeth's fist swung out and collided with the mirror so the glass cracked, jagged lines spreading across like a twisted spider's web. Feeling blood trickle down her hand, Elspeth realised what she had done.

Elspeth reached out and turned the shower off, holding her bleeding hand against her chest as she staggered out of the bathroom.

"Jim," she called down the corridor.

"Yeah?" Moriarty wandered towards the doorway, stopping when he saw the blood on Elspeth's hand. "What have you done?" he demanded, striding forwards.

"I – uh . . . I punched the mirror," she admitted with a sheepish grin. "Sorry." Elspeth lifted her hand and looked at it with an almost thoughtful expression, frowning. "That's . . . that's a lot of blood." She realised that she must've hit the mirror harder than she thought she had, pain blossoming when she wriggled her fingers.

"Don't do that," Moriarty said. "Wait here." He strode past Elspeth and disappeared into the bathroom, emerging a few seconds later with a towel, which he wrapped around her hand as gently as he could. "Keep your hand elevated, it'll help stop the bleeding. Come on."

Moriarty put his hand on the small of Elspeth's back. She frowned. "Where are we going?"

"I know a doctor," Moriarty murmured. "You crazy girl."

* * *

><p>Her hand was throbbing. The doctor Moriarty had taken her to was the same one who checked in on her when she had a virus – not that Elspeth knew that, of course. Sitting on the bench and swinging her legs, Elspeth waited, frowning unhappily at her bandaged hand. The doctor had cleaned the cuts and removed any glass that was embedded in her hand.<p>

"Try not to aggravate the wounds any further or tear the stitches," he warned her when he was winding the bandage round her hand. "Don't forget to keep them clean."

Elspeth sighed. The doctor was outside the room, talking to Moriarty in a low voice so she wouldn't hear; she knew they were talking about her though.

She didn't know what had possessed her to punch the mirror. Looking back, Elspeth realised it had been a stupid idea. A really stupid idea. Elspeth flexed her fingers and winced at the pain, running her clean hand along the bandage with a small frown. Why did she do that? She felt like such an idiot.

Moriarty glanced her way and Elspeth looked away quickly, her cheeks pink.

"Alright," Moriarty said, strolling into the room. "Time to go home." Elspeth sighed and looked up at him, so forlorn that he frowned, sitting down on the bench next to her. "Why'd you do it, then?"

"You . . . want to talk about my feelings?" Elspeth asked warily. Moriarty nodded. "I don't know why I did it, I was just – I don't know. Angry. Sad. I really have no idea why I did it." She sighed and shifted in her seat a little, feeling Moriarty's arm brush against hers as she did so. "I'm sorry I broke your mirror. I can pay you back if you want."

"Doesn't bother me. You're the one with seven years bad luck," Moriarty teased. Elspeth didn't smile.

"I'm such a mess."

"Yeah," Moriarty agreed quietly, his voice low. Reaching out, he tucked Elspeth's hair behind her ear and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers, and Elspeth couldn't stop herself from leaning into his touch. She was so screwed. "But you're my mess."

Elspeth sighed, smiling up at him. "You make it seem so romantic."

Moriarty smiled back. His eyes were so soft and gentle that Elspeth almost forgot who she was looking at for a few seconds, leaning against him so her head was on his shoulder. He took her bandaged hand in his, murmuring an apology when Elspeth flinched, and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it, his lips barely brushing against the bandages.

Lifting her head, Elspeth met Moriarty's eyes. She'd read somewhere that when two people made eye contact for six seconds without blinking, it indicated the desire to kiss or kill each other.

"Can . . ." her voice trailed off and she looked down. "Can we go home now please?"

"Yeah," Moriarty said quietly. He stood up first, extending his hand, and Elspeth didn't think as she took it with the hand that wasn't bandaged. It made her feel safe to be by his side and the thought terrified Elspeth as they walked out together; she made sure to thank the doctor for tending to her hand. He gave her a small smile in return.

When they returned home, Elspeth wandered through to the bathroom and gazed at the cracked mirror, surveying the damage. She didn't even realise that Moriarty was behind her until he spoke.

"That was one hell of a punch."

Elspeth jumped, turning round to face him. "I am really sorry."

"Don't worry about it. I hated that mirror anyway," Moriarty said with a shrug. "Want some tea?"

"Only if you make it," Elspeth said with a sheepish grin, waving her bandaged hand at him. "I don't think I'll be much use." Moriarty smiled back and left the bathroom, and after glancing over her shoulder at the mirror a final time, Elspeth followed him.

The kitchen was cool and dark, and Elspeth shivered as she leaned against the counter, watching Moriarty boil the kettle. Opening the cupboard, he took out two mugs. Elspeth always used the same mug; it was white with brightly coloured polka dots on it, and it was so out of place in the severe setting of Moriarty's flat that Elspeth had grown to love it. Moriarty made Elspeth tea the way she liked it. She'd only just noticed.

"Drink it slowly," Moriarty murmured, handing the mug to Elspeth. "It's hot."

"I'm not a complete idiot," Elspeth said. There wasn't any malice in her voice. "I just lose my head sometimes." She took the cup from Moriarty, blew on her tea and sipped it before placing the cup on the counter behind her. "So I'm only a partial idiot."

"You're not an idiot," Moriarty disagreed, gazing at Elspeth with admiration in his eyes. She was far from an idiot; she was smart. Smarter than she gave herself credit for, and Moriarty realised that he admired her for it. He was beginning to realise that there was so much more to Elspeth Holmes than he originally thought. He liked it. Elspeth grimaced, looking as if she disagreed, so Moriarty repeated, "You're not."

"I've walked into glass doors," Elspeth blurted out. Moriarty raised an eyebrow. "I called a teacher mum once. I fell asleep in art and got bright blue paint in my hair because I didn't think to push it out of the way before I put my head on the table. I'm not perfect, but that doesn't mean I can't have idiotic moments. So, yeah, I'm kind of an idiot."

Moriarty laughed. "Well, when you put it like_ that_."

"But that's what makes people _human_, isn't it? Flaws, mistakes." Elspeth grinned. "Being an idiot. No one is perfect."

"Speak for yourself," Moriarty muttered, making Elspeth laugh. Moriarty really wasn't the big bad monster she thought he was. Not that she would ever admit that to anyone. Not for the first time she thought about Sebastian's words, about the idea that Jim Moriarty could be in love with her. And when Moriarty let his guard down, acted _human_ even for a few seconds, Elspeth realised that it was very easy to imagine it. It was even easier to imagine falling in love with him.

For a second, Elspeth wondered what would've happened if she had kissed Moriarty.

Moriarty glanced over at Elspeth, watching her for a few seconds. He knew that she was deep in thought because she got that little crease on her forehead, her lips tugging into a slight frown, and he was content to simply gaze at her. Moriarty liked to watch Elspeth. She blinked, her eyes meeting his.

Elspeth counted out the six seconds. Six, long, wordless seconds in which neither of them blinked. Simply gazed at each other.

And at the end of those six seconds, Elspeth realised that she still didn't know what she wanted.

* * *

><p><em>Thank you Eternal Cat Moon, Capricornwholovesbooks, tardislover1, Adrillian1497, Princely Archer, TheDoctorIsMyGuardian, PutThatInYourBlog and Walking Entity of Sass for reviewing! <em>


	11. Chapter 11

_**11.**_

Her hand was burning. Wincing, Elspeth cursed herself for being an idiot – she'd clenched her fist, forgetting about the stitches – and sat up in bed, flexing her fingers out gingerly. She winced.

"Painkillers," Elspeth said to herself.

Kicking the covers off, Elspeth glanced at the clock and grimaced when she realised how early it was, the floor cold against her bare feet. She stuck her tongue out at her reflection when she passed the mirror, taking in her heavy lidded eyes and messed up hair, and Elspeth realised that she must've been sleeping for a long time.

Elspeth heard voices as she walked down the corridor but she was so tired that she could barely register them, assuming that it was just Moriarty and Sebastian. She yawned. After she got the painkillers, Elspeth was going to go straight back to bed and sleep for the rest of the morning. She was exhausted.

The voices became clearer and Moriarty saw Elspeth first when she walked into the light of the dining room.

"What are you doing up so early?" he asked her with a touch of annoyance. Elspeth realised she was interrupting something.

"Painkillers," she mumbled, still half asleep, and held her hand out as explanation. "My hand hurts." Elspeth yawned again, rubbed her eyes with her unbandaged hand, and looked over at the person he'd been talking to; even half asleep, Elspeth recognised Mary Morstan. Elspeth's eyes widened a fraction but when she blinked, her mask of stupidity was restored. "Oh. Hi."

Mary returned Elspeth's greeting with a tight lipped smile. Elspeth knew for certain that she was interrupting something, a meeting between Mary and Moriarty she supposed. Her eyes flickered towards Moriarty; he was watching her carefully, his eyes never wavering.

"I'll get your painkillers," Moriarty said to her, brushing past Elspeth as he strode down the corridor and into the bathroom. Elspeth rolled her eyes. Of course the painkillers would be in the bathroom. Grimacing at Mary as if to say _I'm such an idiot,_ Elspeth looked down and played with the bandage around her hand, uncertain about what to do. She could feel Mary's eyes on her.

"What did you do?"

It took Elspeth a second to realise it was Mary who had spoken, and she lifted her eyes.

"I punched the bathroom mirror," Elspeth admitted sheepishly.

"That wasn't a good idea," Mary said with a hint of amusement in her voice, her lips twitching into a small smile that wasn't entirely unkind. Elspeth smiled back.

"Yeah, well, I'm full of not good ideas." Rubbing a hand up and down her arm, Elspeth shifted her weight from one foot to the other, looking over at Mary. When the older woman smiled – even when it was just a little smile – she didn't look like a sniper. She looked as if she could be a mother, a wife, somebody's friend. Elspeth wondered how she got involved with someone like Moriarty. "So – uh . . . how long have you known Jim? If you don't mind me asking."

"A while," was all Mary said. Elspeth decided not to push it and looked back at her a little more, tearing her eyes away when she heard footsteps. She didn't know that Mary had the same thoughts as Elspeth did; she couldn't understand how someone so young and innocent and pretty could live with Jim Moriarty.

"Painkillers," Moriarty said, holding the box up for Elspeth. She took them from him.

"Why'd it take you so long to find them?" she grumbled, struggling to open the box without hurting her hand. Moriarty tried to help her but Elspeth insisted that she could do it, holding the box away from him as she continued to struggle, a triumphant grin spreading across her face when she finally succeeded. "Ok," Elspeth said, popping two capsules out. "I am taking these and going back to bed."

"That's probably for the best," Moriarty agreed in amusement, smiling fondly at Elspeth even though she wasn't looking at him. Mary frowned. "I won't be here when you wake up."

"Where are you going?"

"Some of us have to work," Moriarty replied. He reached out and brushed Elspeth's hair behind her ear. "Your hair is a mess."

"I just woke up, I don't give a crap about my hair," Elspeth muttered. She swallowed the pills, grimaced, and yawned. "Alright, I'm going back to bed. Have fun at work, don't kill too many people and all that jazz." Elspeth made to walk past Moriarty but he put his hand on her arm, his skin against hers making Elspeth's heart jolt. She looked up at him. "What?"

"Don't I get a goodbye kiss?" Moriarty grinned and Elspeth scowled, pushing his hand away as she stormed back down the corridor, slamming her door behind her. Moriarty laughed. "She loves me really," he said to Mary, who was watching the pair with a dubious look.

"I'm sure she does," she said dryly. Moriarty gave her a sharp sideways glance but Mary wasn't intimidated. "I should go. I don't want to keep Moran waiting."

Moriarty took a slow step forwards. He wasn't much taller than Mary but he had a dark look in his eyes, one she knew all too well. Mary didn't scare easily. She'd known Moriarty long enough to know that his moods were unpredictable at the best of times, and she knew better than to piss him off. Even if he didn't frighten her, Moriarty was still a dangerous man.

"Remember," Moriarty said in a low voice. "If you tell anyone about what you saw here today . . ." his voice trailed off and his grimace would've been comical if it wasn't quite so sinister. "I'll have to kill you," he finished in a high pitched, sing song voice.

Mary didn't doubt him for a second.

"I'd like to see you try," she said quietly. Something flashed in Moriarty's eyes and he opened his mouth to say something, but Mary didn't give him the chance as she turned and walked away.

* * *

><p>Elspeth knew it was a daft idea the second she came up with it, but she was too high on painkillers to care. She bundled on the layers, pulling her favourite winter coat on over the top of her jumper and stuffing her jeans into her boots, and grabbed her bag. Scribbling a quick note in case Sebastian or Moriarty returned while she was out, Elspeth stuffed the spare key into her pocket and shut the door behind her.<p>

She loved London at Christmas. The lights were up and the stores had their decorations out, and people were bustling back and forth with their shopping. Elspeth made a quick stop in Costa – or as quick as she could be when there was a huge queue – and picked up a hot chocolate, which she cradled in her cold hands while she walked.

It was a stupid idea. But Elspeth felt like being stupid for a bit.

Most people she knew didn't enjoy Christmas shopping. Elspeth loved it. There was something about the cliché that it was better to give than receive that rang true in Elspeth's mind, and she felt more than a bit sad when she realised that she wasn't going to be there when her presents were opened. She didn't even have that many people to buy presents for. Mycroft, Mrs Hudson . . . John. Elspeth sighed. Poor John. She just hoped he wasn't spending Christmas alone.

No, of course he wasn't. John had friends; he could go see Mrs Hudson. Or Lestrade. Or – what was his name? – Mike . . . someone. Even so, Elspeth wasn't convinced. She really hoped he wasn't going to be alone.

Elspeth wandered down the street aimlessly, barely glancing at the shop displays even though she was meant to be shopping. Her mind was on John.

Sipping her hot chocolate, Elspeth grimaced when she realised it had gone cold, gulping the remains and throwing the takeaway cup into a nearby bin as she passed. She felt some remorse; Elspeth rarely had hot chocolate despite it being one of her favourite drinks. It was like a guilty pleasure.

And now it was gone.

Elspeth snorted and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her coat, ignoring the strange looks she received. She remembered being in college and coming up with ridiculously pretentious points in her English lessons, referring to non-existent metaphors and making daft comparisons with no link between them, and Elspeth couldn't help but smile to herself as she wondered if her favourite hot drink turning cold was a metaphor for her life. As amusing as it was to consider, her life wasn't a John Green novel; Elspeth was just being silly.

Her friends would've found it funny though. Elspeth didn't have many of them, and since Sherlock's death, it felt as if they had disappeared completely. She supposed she only had herself to blame.

Elspeth pursed her lips together and sat down on an empty bench, wrapping her arms around herself while the frosty wind nipped at her. She only had herself to blame. It was never easy accepting one's faults, but for Elspeth, it was even harder when she considered everything that had happened since Sherlock's death – and it was her fault. Elspeth had made her bed and now she had to lie in it, so there was no point in moping around and feeling sorry for herself.

_Easier said than done_, she thought to herself with a wry grin. But that was just the way things were.

If it were a film or a novel, at that point a helpful stranger would've started a conversation with Elspeth and she could relay all her troubles onto him and her in exchange for wise advice. Elspeth looked to the side with a glimmer of hope, wondering if it could be one of those moments where everything went the way she wanted it to, but sighed when no one appeared. It looked like she was going to have to figure this out on her own.

Elspeth knew that she was lonely. She knew that she missed everyone. That meant the smartest thing to do would to be make amends and let everyone know she was sorry, but how could she face John and Molly and Mrs Hudson and Lestrade when she was living with Jim Moriarty?

It was early afternoon and Elspeth heard the quiet rumble of her stomach, realising that she hadn't had any breakfast that morning. Rising to her feet, she decided to get some lunch.

Decisions were much easier to make when she had a full stomach.

* * *

><p>"What are you doing here?"<p>

Elspeth almost jumped at the sound of Sally Donovan's voice, turning to stare at the older woman with wide eyes and doing a quick sweep. She looked well enough. A little tired, perhaps, but otherwise alright; Elspeth wondered if Sherlock's death had affected Sally at all. She hadn't been at the funeral.

Remembering that Sally had asked her a question, Elspeth held a bag up. "Is . . . is Lestrade here?"

"He's out," Sally said. "Drugs bust." She eyed Elspeth with a frown and added, "I'm surprised you haven't tagged along. Isn't that what you do?"

Elspeth felt her brow furrow. Normally she would've made a snide remark of her own, or pointed out that Sally reeked of another man's cologne, but now it didn't even cross her mind. Elspeth didn't have the energy to argue and Sally seemed to realise that, the hardness in her eyes fading away a little.

"I don't have anyone to tag along with," Elspeth said quietly, her lips twitching into a wry smile. Sally frowned. "Where's Anderson?"

"He's not here anymore. He lost his job."

"Oh." Elspeth licked her lips, her eyes darting about the office. "That's a shame."

Sally looked Elspeth up and down, taking in her cheeks – tinged pink from being outside for so long – and the dark circles under her eyes, eventually focusing on the bandage around her hand. If Elspeth noticed Sally's quick scrutiny, she didn't say anything; just waited for her to say something. Sally couldn't decide if Elspeth's remorse for Anderson was genuine or not.

"I can put that in his office, if you want," Sally offered finally, gesturing towards the bag in Elspeth's hand. The top was sealed but it looked like Elspeth had brought Lestrade a bottle of something. His favourite drink, perhaps. "I'll make sure he gets it."

Elspeth's eyes flickered between the gift and Sally. "Yeah, if you don't mind."

Sally shook her head. She didn't say so, but it was the least she could do.

Taking the present, Sally watched Elspeth turn and walk away. "Hey," she called when Elspeth reached the doorway, surprised when the younger woman stopped. "I'm –" Sally hesitated. "I'm sorry about your dad."

Taken aback, Elspeth stared at Sally for a few seconds.

Sally was the first to turn away, walking through one of the doors that led to Lestrade's office, and Elspeth bit her bottom lip, wondering if all those years of disliking Sally Donovan were really worth it. She was still thinking about it when she got in the taxi, murmuring the address to the driver and leaning back in her seat. After all these years, Sally had apologised – and for what? Was she being genuine? Or did she just feel sorry for Elspeth?

"Something on your mind?" the driver asked Elspeth when she sighed louder than she meant to.

"Er – just . . . stuff."

"Sure you want to go to Barts Hospital? Seems a bit grim for this time of year."

Elspeth smiled and glanced over at the bags on the seat next to her. "I'm sure," she said. "There's someone I need to see."

The driver dropped her off outside and Elspeth paid him, giving him a generous tip that left him grinning from ear to ear; it was Christmas, after all. She stepped out onto the pavement. Staring up at the roof of the hospital, Elspeth swallowed past the lump in her throat and realised this was the first time she'd been to the building since . . . she couldn't even think about it. Elspeth took a small step back, ignoring the dirty look she received when a passer-by swerved to avoid colliding with her, and shut her eyes.

"I can do this," Elspeth whispered. Keeping her eyes on the ground, she forced herself to step forwards again and again, letting out a sigh of relief when she reached the door. It was a struggle not to turn and run, but somehow Elspeth managed to reach the right floor.

She didn't even glance at the morgue as she strode past. Elspeth stopped to peek in the lab, frowning when she saw it was empty, and continued down the corridor to the office.

Elspeth didn't know what she'd been expecting when she saw Molly. In a strange way, she'd sort of hoped that the pathologist would spot her straight away, but Molly Hooper was engrossed in the work in front of her. Elspeth gazed at her for a few seconds, her lips twitching into a small smile when she realised Molly had put on a little bit of weight – not in an unhealthy way, of course. When Molly put on weight, that usually meant she'd been seeing someone long enough to feel comfortable.

Molly blinked, her concentration broken, when Elspeth knocked on the open door and looked up. Her eyes widened.

"Ellie," Molly said with a tinge of excitement in her voice, scrambling to get her work out of the way as she climbed to her feet so abruptly that her chair went skating into the bookshelf behind her. "What are you doing here? Not that I'm not pleased to see you, of course, it's great that you're here – oh, come in."

Elspeth smiled, walking into the office and holding a present out to Molly. "Merry Christmas."

"Oh." Molly stared at the gift in surprise. "You didn't have to –"

"I wanted to."

Molly gazed at Elspeth for a few seconds, scrutinising her the way Sally had, and Elspeth wondered what they both saw when they looked at her. "Thank you," Molly said, putting the gift down on the desk and retrieving her chair. "How are you feeling? I haven't seen you since . . ." _since you ran out of the funeral_ Molly wanted to say, but she realised that was horribly insensitive and cringed. "I haven't seen you for a while."

"No, I don't think anyone has," Elspeth said with a sheepish grin, playing with the bandage around her hand and staring at her feet. "I've sort of been avoiding people. But I'm alright. I think."

"I'm sorry."

Elspeth lifted her head and frowned. When people said they were sorry, they usually meant that they were sorry for her loss and weren't sure what else to say, but Molly's tone was almost guilty. It didn't make sense. Elspeth stared back at her, her eyes narrow.

"What for?" she asked.

Molly's cheeks turned pink. "For – for everything, of course. It must've been hard for you and you've been alone –" Molly paused. It was her turn to narrow her eyes. "Where have you been living? John says you left Baker Street months ago."

"I'm staying with a friend," Elspeth said, the same lie she'd told Mycroft. "He had a spare room."

"He?"

Elspeth cringed; she hadn't meant to say _he_. "It's fine, Molly," she promised. "It's all . . . _fine_, no hanky panky, no –" her cheeks burned. She couldn't believe she was saying this. "Nothing like that is going on. We're just two friends who happen to live in the same flat together. Plus, I don't think he even likes me in that way."

"As long as you're safe," Molly murmured. She really did care, but Elspeth wasn't sure if she knew the meaning of the word anymore. "You are safe, aren't you?"

"Y – yeah," Elspeth stammered. Molly raised an eyebrow, her eyes flickering towards Elspeth's injured hand, and didn't bother hiding her doubt. "That was an accident," she added hastily. "Well, sort of. I did it on purpose but I didn't realise it wasn't going to end so badly and I've been taking painkillers all day, so it's sort of possible that I'm high right now. But I think I'm ok."

"Are you sure? You look sad . . . like Sherlock looked sad before he –" Molly stopped. Elspeth didn't say anything. "I can see it in your eyes, and you shouldn't have to suffer on your own, because sadness makes people do stupid things."

"Like punch a mirror," Elspeth whispered. She sighed. "Or kill themselves." Molly stared back at Elspeth, unable to speak for a few second. "I'd better go now, I've got stuff to do."

"Wait," Molly blurted out. She stood up and hesitated, looking as if she might hug Elspeth but changing her mind. "Don't be a stranger." She offered Elspeth a small, tentative smile. "You're always welcome here."

"Thanks Molly," Elspeth said. She sounded genuine. "What's his name, then?"

"I –" she was about to protest, but realised it was helpless. "His name is Tom," Molly admitted. "We met through friends and he's got a dog and we go to the pub at the weekend. I'm going to meet his parents this Christmas, I'm really nervous about it because I want to make a good impression – I really like Tom, more than I've liked anyone for a while. He's normal. Not a sociopath."

"Good," Elspeth mumbled. "That's . . . that's really good. I hope things work out for you." After everything, Molly deserved to be happy. She'd spent years pining after Sherlock and now she'd finally moved on, and it was about time. "Have a nice Christmas."

There was a finality in Elspeth's words that made Molly frown, but she didn't say anything.

Elspeth turned around so Molly wouldn't see the tears in her eyes, ducking her head.

It was easy to hail a taxi when Elspeth left the hospital, and she was relieved when the taxi driver wasn't as friendly as the last one; after her meeting with Molly, Elspeth didn't quite feel like making small talk. Wrapping her arms around herself and hunching her shoulders, Elspeth glanced down at the presents on her lap. There were only a few left.

"Can you wait for a minute?" Elspeth asked when the taxi pulled up outside 221B. "I need to drop something off."

The driver agreed to wait with some reluctance. Elspeth rolled her eyes and jumped out, darting across the street to carefully place Mrs Hudson's gift on the front porch. It wasn't much – only some scented bath salts and chocolates that Elspeth knew Mrs Hudson liked – but Elspeth had scribbled a sincere apology in the card she'd included. She rang the doorbell and ran back to the taxi, glancing over her shoulder just as the front door opened. Mrs Hudson didn't see her.

"Where to now, miss?" the driver asked, giving Elspeth a strange look.

"The Diogenes Club, please."

* * *

><p>"I must say this is a surprise," Mycroft said, closing the door behind him. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"<p>

Elspeth thrust a bag out to Mycroft. "Merry Christmas," she said. "There's a card and some chocolates in there for Anthea as well, so if you could give them to her that would be great."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, opening the bag and peering inside, but didn't say anything as he put it down on the small table beside him. He poured himself a drink, watching Elspeth as she hovered awkwardly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Eventually she sat down in one of the armchairs and curled her legs up to her chest, ignoring the sideways glance Mycroft gave her. Elspeth wasn't supposed to have her feet on the furniture.

"What did you do this time?" Mycroft asked, referring to her hand. Elspeth sighed. "Did you get into another fight? You cannot continue to get yourself into these situations, Elspeth, I won't allow it –"

"Allow it?" Elspeth repeated. "You're not my father, Mycroft. And yeah, since you asked, I did get into another fight. With a _mirror_. Because there are days when I can barely get out of bed, and there are days I feel so angry that it's all I can do not to scream, and sometimes I can't even bear to look at my own reflection."

Elspeth had destroyed 221B the day Sherlock died. This was the first time she'd admitted to anyone how she really felt inside.

"Have you considered counselling?"

"Yeah, because I really want to see a total stranger and tell them about my life. Maybe I should tell them about the time I ate two packets of mentos and downed a bottle of diet coke – oh my God." Elspeth straightened up suddenly, her eyes widening in an almost comical way. "Does that count as a suicide attempt?"

"You're being incredibly facetious right now, Elspeth."

"And you're telling me to go talk to some stranger – we spend our whole lives avoiding talking to people. You spend most of your time in a building where people _don't talk to each other._" Elspeth flung her arms up in exasperation, flopping back into the armchair. "I don't need a counsellor," she muttered. "I'm fine. I lose my temper sometimes and it just so happened that a mirror had to be there."

Mycroft wondered who Elspeth was trying to convince; him or herself.

"I won't be seeing you this Christmas, I assume," Mycroft said, glancing over at the gift Elspeth had given him. Her stomach twisted with guilt.

"I'm going away," Elspeth said softly. "I'm . . . I'm going to Ireland for a little while. I need to get out of London. It feels like –" she grimaced and made a vague gesture with her hands. "I can't breathe in London, not properly." As she said the words, Elspeth realised how true they were and felt a strange sense of relief when she thought about leaving, even if it wasn't for that long. "Are you going to be alone at Christmas?"

"I expect so," Mycroft replied loftily. Elspeth frowned, gazing at him with a sad look in her eyes. "It doesn't trouble me, Elspeth. I'll finally have some peace."

"Nice to know I'm bothering you," Elspeth retorted. She couldn't help but grin though, pleased that Mycroft would be alright; she knew he wasn't going to lie to her. That was one less person to be worried about, at least. Biting her lip, Elspeth hesitated before asking, "Have you heard from John at all recently?"

"Yes, we meet every Friday for fish and chips," Mycroft sneered. Elspeth gave him a dark look. "Not recently, no, but I do keep an eye on him."

"I swear that must be illegal somehow," Elspeth muttered under her breath. She sighed. "Have you got his new address?" The words felt odd leaving Elspeth's mouth because she never thought of having to ask the question; Elspeth couldn't get her head around John leaving 221B. When she'd moved in when Sherlock and John, Elspeth never thought that after only a few years, Sherlock would be dead and John would've moved out and she would be living with Jim Moriarty. It was funny how things turned out.

"Depends. Are you planning on leaving the present on his porch as well?"

Elspeth's cheeks turned pink. "You saw that, huh? No – I'm . . . I think I'm going to see him. I owe him an explanation at least." It was easier said than done. The day had been draining enough and the thought of having to face John terrified Elspeth, but after the funeral, she knew she couldn't avoid him forever. "Please, Mycroft," she pleaded. "I'm trying to make things better."

The look in Mycroft's eyes softened, holding some sympathy for Elspeth. He hadn't been impressed with her running out of Sherlock's funeral, nor did he approve of her disappearing act, but it seemed like she was genuinely trying to make up for it and that was what made Elspeth a better person than he could ever be.

"Do you want to call ahead? Let him know you're coming so he can prepare?"

"And give him the chance to completely ignore me?" Elspeth grimaced. "I think I should just surprise him."

Elspeth just hoped that John didn't shut the door on her.

* * *

><p>Opening the front door, John trudged into his flat and threw the keys down on the counter. They were followed by his shopping. A bottle of whiskey and a microwave meal for one.<p>

The flat was so quiet.

Sometimes – more often that John cared to admit – he would start walking back to 221B rather than his new flat, and it wouldn't be until he was a few streets away that John realised where he was headed. He knew that he would be more than welcome to go back and Mrs Hudson, who John hadn't seen or spoken to for a long time, would be so pleased to see him, but there was something that stopped John from going back. There were too many memories.

On the days when John didn't accidentally go to Baker Street, he would open his front door and expect to be greeted with some sort of chaos; Sherlock shooting at the walls, or another one of his daft experiments exploding on the kitchen table, or even Sherlock and Elspeth having one of their arguments over the silliest of things. John missed that.

John took the microwave meal out from the bag, stared at it for a few seconds, and then thrust it into the fridge. It was pathetic really.

Like it did most days, John's mind wandered to Elspeth. He hadn't seen her since the funeral. It had been a hard for them all but Elspeth acted as if it didn't bother her in the slightest, sitting with a blank expression and staying completely still, even when John grasped her hand.

And then she'd left.

Pouring himself a glass of whiskey and grimacing when the alcohol came as a shock to his system, John leaned against the counter. How could someone walk out of a funeral early? How could Elspeth leave her own father's funeral and ignore everyone since? He couldn't understand it.

Everyone had been so surprised when John went back to work, but he had bills to pay and food to buy, and he couldn't sit around all day. Even so, John wondered if he'd gone back too soon. He'd grieved and he was still grieving for his friend – his best friend, the first he'd had in years – and what made it even harder was that John was completely and utterly alone. Mycroft wasn't exactly a source of comfort and Elspeth was nowhere to be seen, and John had never had that many friends.

There were days when he thought about the gun in his drawer. John hadn't considered that gun since he met Sherlock, but sometimes there were days that felt unbearably long and he was so alone, and no matter what his therapist said, John couldn't envisage there ever being a day when things would be alright.

Tears sprung to his eyes. John squeezed them shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a shaky breath.

The alcohol probably didn't help either.

His phone rang but John ignored it. It was probably only Lestrade calling to see if he was alright, or ask if he wanted to meet for a drink in the pub, but John just wanted to be left alone.

Unable to listen to the silence for much longer, John walked through to the living room and settled on the sofa, turning the TV on with the volume high enough for him to forget he was on his own. It was a nice flat with two bedrooms – John still couldn't justify why he'd needed two bedrooms – and an ensuite bathroom in his room. Not that he had to share a bathroom with anyone.

His lips twitched into a small smile when John thought about all the arguments Sherlock and Elspeth got into about the bathroom.

Someone knocked on the front door. John assumed it was one of his neighbours or someone trying to sell him something, turning the volume up a little so he could ignore whoever it was. He wasn't in the mood for company. John wanted to be left alone.

Whoever was on the other side of the door didn't know that, of course, and knocked a second time. Harder, louder, more insistent. John continued to ignore them, determined and stubborn, and let out a heavy sigh when the person knocked a third time. They weren't going away.

After the fifth knock, John scowled, turned the TV off and slammed his glass down on the counter as he passed, storming across the room. He was tired and angry and ready to give whoever it was a piece of his mind; it had been a long time and all John wanted was to be _left alone_. Why couldn't people get that into their heads? Yes, he was lonely, but that didn't mean he wanted people fussing over him and being sympathetic and walking on eggshells because they didn't want to upset the grieving army doctor with a gun in the drawer of his bedside table. Not that anyone knew about the gun.

John wasn't an idiot. He'd seen the patients and read the leaflets and given the diagnoses, and if he told anyone else about his symptoms, he knew they'd suggest depression. He wasn't depressed.

"Alright," he shouted when the person knocked _again_. "I'm coming, give me a second." John unlocked the door, took off the chain, and wrenched it open. "What do you –" he cut himself off.

The first thing John saw was that wild brown hair that fell in thick waves, messy despite how many times she brushed it, and he looked down to meet those vivid hazel eyes that widened when they gazed at him, thick eyelashes fluttering almost anxiously. John recognised her features immediately, drinking in the youthful essence of her sharp cheekbones and pointed chin, his own eyes following the line of freckles scattered across her nose.

"Ellie," he whispered, breathless and incredulous.

Elspeth grinned sheepishly at John, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear and shifting her weight from one foot to the other while she chewed on her bottom lip. There were dark shadows under her eyes and she'd lost weight, the innocent shine in her eyes dulled, but John noticed the way her face lit up when she gazed at him.

"Hi John," Elspeth said. She swallowed past the lump in her throat, feeling her heart pound, and held up the last present she'd brought that day. "Can I come in?"

* * *

><p><em>Thank you Capricornwholovesbooks, tardislover1, Adrillian1497, Lylark, TheDoctorIsMyGuardian and Deductions-of-Sherlolly for reviewing! <em>


	12. Chapter 12

_**12.**_

John stared at Elspeth, his eyes flickering between her and the gift in her hand, and he couldn't wrap his head around it. She was there. In front of him. John drank in her features and felt his heart ache when he realised how like Sherlock she was, his fist clenching and unclenching. He shook his head. Letting out a long, slow breath, John lowered his gaze for a few seconds, then looked up at Elspeth again. It had been _months_ since he'd seen Elspeth and now she was there, in front of him, staring back at him like nothing had happened.

Elspeth's smile wavered a little. She could tell John was trying not to lose his temper, and he had good reason to. "I can come back if now isn't a good time."

"You –" John spluttered. Shaking his head again, he did the only thing he could do; he slammed the door shut. A second later, John wrenched it open again. "What are you doing here?" he demanded. "How did you find out my address?"

"Mycroft gave it to me," Elspeth said in a small voice. "I can go if –"

"Don't you dare." John sounded so stern that Elspeth froze, staring back at him. "Get in here," he ordered, using what Elspeth used to call his 'soldier voice'; it was the sort of voice that made everyone stop and listen to him. "Now."

Elspeth scuttled inside, put the present down, and looked around, her eyes lingering on the bottle of whiskey that was still on the counter. The flat was nice enough. It was around the same size as 221B, but far cleaner and a lot less messy, and Elspeth couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. Then again, John always used to moan at Sherlock and her for making such a mess of the kitchen. And the living room. And the bathroom. It made sense for his own space to be so neat and orderly.

"I didn't know you drank whiskey," Elspeth commented mildly, and John gave her such a dark look that she wished she hadn't. "Sorry. It's – uh . . . it's nice here." She flinched when John slammed the door shut.

"It's been months," he said quietly, sounding as if he could barely contain his anger. "_Months_. You . . . you _walked out of_ Sherlock's – your own father's funeral and none of hear from you for months." Elspeth stared back at John; she had never seen him look so pitiful before. Helpless. He was hurting and she was part of the reason why, and upon that realisation, Elspeth couldn't shake the undeniable feeling of guilt. She looked away. "You could've been dead for all I knew," John continued in a tight voice. "How could you do that?"

_To me,_ John wanted to add. He didn't need to. Elspeth could hear it in his voice.

"I'm sorry, John," Elspeth whispered. John scoffed, shaking his head and turning away, and Elspeth watched as he poured himself another glass of whiskey. "_That's _not going to help."

"Don't even think about lecturing me," John snapped back, whirling around to face her and pointing an accusing finger at Elspeth, the fire in his eyes making her want to take a step back. She didn't. "One word, Ellie – _one._ That was all I would've needed."

"I –"

"But _no_. You walk out of a funeral, disappear off the face of the earth – do you have any idea how worried I was? How many voicemails I left you? Or did you just ignore them as well?" John demanded. "You can't do that to people, Ellie, especially not since –" he cut himself off. He still couldn't say it. "– since what happened, but I'm not supposed to have a problem with you walking in and out of my life when it pleases you because Elspeth Holmes thinks it a perfectly _ok thing to do!" _

"I said I was sorry!" Elspeth yelled back. "Dear God, John, what more can I say? Should I get it tattooed across my forehead? Write it in blood on the wall? I am _sorry_, John, that I walked out of Baker Street and that I left the funeral early and I completely ignored everyone and everything in this crappy world, but if you haven't forgotten, this hasn't exactly been easy on me either." There were tears in Elspeth's eyes but she wiped them away stubbornly, glaring at John. "He was my _Dad_ and I loved him as well."

"Then why did you do it?"

"I don't know!" A long silence followed Elspeth's words. John and Elspeth gazed at each, their cheeks flushed and hearts racing, and Elspeth bit her bottom lip. "I was afraid," she said slowly. "And hurt, and angry, and _grieving_."

John sunk into the sofa. "You weren't the only one."

"I know." Elspeth shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "I was selfish."

Closing his eyes, John turned away from Elspeth for a few seconds. He wanted to tell her that she'd been more than selfish, but he couldn't find the words; they all felt too harsh. He felt a sense of relief now he knew that Elspeth was alive – John hadn't been exaggerating when he told Elspeth that he was worried about her being _dead_ – and he was furious at her for walking out, leaving him on his own . . . but after everything they had been through, John couldn't do it. Especially not when he looked at Elspeth and saw the raw vulnerability in her eyes. John could tell that she really was sorry.

"What happened to your hand?" John asked instead, his eyes focusing on the bandage. Elspeth's cheeks turned pink and he automatically assumed the worst; he knew what she was like. Mad, impulsive, reckless. Elspeth acted first and thought later, and it always got her in trouble.

"A mirror," Elspeth mumbled sheepishly. "I got angry. And the mirror was there . . ." her voice trailed off and she grimaced at John, making a vague gesture with her hands. The motion made her flinch. "It was a stupid idea."

"You're full of them," John muttered without thinking. Elspeth blinked. "Sorry."

"No, no, I deserved that," Elspeth said. "I _really_ deserved that."

John's lips twitched into a small smile. "Why got you so riled up, then? Last time you destroyed something was –" _the night before you walked out of Baker Street_. John paused. "You know."

"Yeah," Elspeth murmured. "I know." She sighed, ran a hand through her hair, and played with the bandage as she gazed down at her feet. Thinking about the night she'd punched the mirror, Elspeth tried not to grimace; it had been the night Moriarty almost kissed her. The night she almost let him kiss her. And she'd been so disgusted with herself that destroying the mirror so she'd no longer have to look at her reflection seemed like the only solution. "You know, if I told you . . . you really wouldn't believe me."

"You're just like Sherlock," John said. "Sneaking about, keeping secrets. It used to drive me crazy."

"Me too," Elspeth said with a wry grin. Her grin faded. "I still miss him."

"So do I."

Elspeth frowned, looking around the flat and gazing at the glass in John's hand. He hadn't touched the whiskey.

"How did we get here, John?" she asked sadly. "After everything we've been through . . ." Elspeth's voice trailed off and John pressed his lips together, wondering the same thing. They _had _been through so much together. The cabbie, the Chinese gangsters, Moriarty, all that nonsense with Irene Adler. John had been abducted by Mycroft Holmes countless times, only to prove that he was the perfect companion for Sherlock and Elspeth, and Elspeth had defended John too many times to count. She was the reason that Kitty Riley stopped writing those slanderous newspaper articles – not that John knew, of course.

"I don't know," John admitted in a low voice, reaching out to put the glass on the coffee table in front of him. Elspeth bit her lip and tried not to let her relief show when he did; she hated to think that his grief drove him to drink. "It probably started when you walked out."

"You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"

"Give me one good reason why I should."

"Because I'm sorry," Elspeth said. "I really am. More sorry than I could ever make you realise, and believe me, I hate myself more than you do. I don't expect you to welcome me back with open arms but after _everything_, I don't want to lose you." Tears filled Elspeth's eyes and she paused, squeezing them shut as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "I can't lose you as well."

John was silent for a minute. Elspeth thought he wasn't going to respond.

He wasn't a man of many words, nor was he a particularly eloquent man. But John Watson knew that he didn't want to lose Elspeth Holmes either. He had been so alone before Sherlock and Elspeth swept into his life in a whirlwind of chaos and madness and danger, and he owed them because John didn't know what he would've done if he hadn't met them.

Still silent, John rose to his feet and crossed the room, and Elspeth watched him with an almost wary expression. She relaxed immediately when John's arms circled her, returning the embrace and burying her face into her chest so he wouldn't see the tears in her eyes. John didn't want to lose Elspeth either, and though he couldn't put it into words the way she could, he knew how to show her. And Elspeth was more grateful than he would ever know.

They stood in the centre of the living room for a while, clinging to each other. Elspeth shook and, when his arms tightened, realised that John was shaking as well; he was crying.

"I'm sorry," Elspeth whispered.

"So am I," John murmured. He turned to kiss the side of Elspeth's head, holding her in a fatherly embrace that she missed.

Later found John and Elspeth sitting on the sofa together in comfortable silence, her legs curled up against his chest and his stretched out in front of him while John gazed at the wall with an almost pensive expression. Elspeth played with her hair, glancing over at the clock and realising that she'd been out all day. Oh well, Moriarty would just have to deal with it.

"I heard you're seeing your therapist again," Elspeth mentioned. John looked at her. "Sorry, Mycroft told me. I think it's good, though, talking to someone . . ."

"Why don't you do it?"

Elspeth grimaced. "Can you imagine me in a therapy session? It's like I said to Mycroft – I'm a Holmes. We spend our whole lives avoiding talking to people." She sighed. "You know me, John. I'm not good at that sort of thing."

John reached out and grasped Elspeth's hand. "Yeah, I know."

"How's work, then?"

"Same old, same old. Giving people medicine for coughs, assuring them that they're not dying of lung cancer because they had one cigarette." John scoffed and rolled his eyes, then grinned as a thought sprung to his mind. "There's a new nurse at work," he added. "She's kind of nice."

"Oh, look at you. Ladies' man," Elspeth teased, grinning from ear to ear and playfully nudging John with her foot. "What's she like?"

"She's . . ." John laughed, shaking his head. He couldn't believe he was having this conversation with Elspeth. "I don't know. She's nice, and funny, and _really_ pretty. I'm considering asking her out on a date."

"You should!" Elspeth cried. "You totally should."

John laughed. "You're unbelievable," he told her. "You don't think it's too soon?"

"Only if you were in love with my Dad." Elspeth laughed at the look John gave her, remembering how Mrs Hudson had been so convinced that Sherlock and John were secretly gay. "No, I don't think it's too soon . . . I think Dad would've wanted us to get on with our lives." Elspeth paused and grimaced. "Well, actually, I think he'd want us to spend the rest of our lives moping and grieving for him, but not even _we_ can do that forever."

"When you put it like that . . ." John's voice trailed off. He decided that he was going to ask the new nurse out – even if it was only for a drink. It was time to get on with his life. "Where are you living now, then?"

"With a friend. Why?"

"I worry about you."

"That's funny, I worry about you too," Elspeth murmured. John smiled over at her. "Don't be worried about me, John, I'm fine, I swear. My friend had a spare room and they're letting me bunk with them until I get back on my feet, so honestly, I'm fine. I'm cohabitating." She laughed to herself when she realised what she'd said. "Sorry, that sounds so _stupid_."

"It did," John agreed. "You never could stand being on your own. Do I know them, then? This friend?"

Elspeth shook her head. "And you're not going to meet them, either. I'm not having you scaring them off and leaving me homeless." She paused, thinking about how John would react if he found out that Elspeth was living with Moriarty, and grimaced. "I'm ok, John, honestly."

"Good." John squeezed Elspeth's hand and let go. "I'm guessing I won't see you at Christmas."

"I'm going to Ireland," Elspeth explained apologetically. "I don't think I can spend much longer in London. I need to get away for a bit." She hesitated. "What are you going to do this Christmas?"

"Greg invited me over."

"Oh, good!" Elspeth let out a sigh of relief when she realise that John wasn't going to spend the day alone. She glanced over at the clock again, grimacing. "Sorry, John, I should probably get going before my friend thinks I've abandoned them completely and locks me out." She was actually more worried about Moriarty throwing a fit when he got home and realised that Elspeth wasn't there.

"Thank you for stopping by," John said, rising to his feet and hugging Elspeth again.

"Thanks for knocking some sense into me," Elspeth said with a sheepish grin. She bit her lip. "I am really sorry. For everything. And I swear that after Christmas, you're going to get sick of me because I'll be here all the time. Seriously. You won't be able to get rid of me." John laughed and Elspeth's grin widened. "I promise I won't disappear again."

"I'll hold you to that," John said. "Have a nice Christmas, Ellie."

"Yeah," Ellie said quietly. "You too, John."

* * *

><p>Moriarty was home when Elspeth got back, looking over as she opened the front door and walked inside with a strange expression. Her cheeks were pink from the wind and her eyes were bloodshot; it almost looked as if she'd been crying.<p>

"Where have you been?" he asked.

"Christmas shopping," Elspeth said in a thick voice. She sniffed. "I saw some friends. And John." Moriarty glanced at her again, watching as Elspeth reached up and wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. She met his eyes, grimacing. "Sorry. Ignore me. I'm being stupid." A few more tears spilled over and Elspeth squeezed her eyes shut, her cheeks burning with embarrassment when she realised she couldn't stop herself from crying. Seeing John had made her more emotional than she'd expected. "Sorry."

Elspeth didn't realise that Moriarty was in front of her until he grasped her hands in his own, lowering them. His thumbs were gentle when he brushed the tears away.

"Don't cry," he murmured. Elspeth let out a shaky laugh.

"Sorry," she repeated.

Moriarty smiled, feeling Elspeth's cheeks with the back of his fingers. "You're freezing."

"It's kinda cold out there," Elspeth said with a sheepish grin, leaning into Moriarty's touch without thinking about it. "And really crowded. It's nearly Christmas and the whole world goes crazy – some mad middle aged woman barged into me in one of the shop." She grimaced at the thought. "People are nuts."

"Ordinary people are," Moriarty said in agreement, and Elspeth's cheeks turned red for a different reason. "Why don't you go sit down and relax?"

"In a second. There's something I have to do first." She pulled away from Moriarty, smiling. "You can always make me some tea if you want," she added, walking down the corridor to her bedroom. Elspeth heard Moriarty mutter something under his breath and tried not to laugh, taking the box from her bag; she couldn't spend Christmas with Moriarty without getting him a present. She just hoped he liked it.

It took Elspeth a few seconds to find a suitable hiding place for the present. She knew that Moriarty had no reason to go into her room but she wanted to make sure that the gift was properly hidden, eventually sticking it in the drawer she kept her underwear in. There was no reason for him to go in there. She hoped.

"Here," Moriarty grumbled, shoving a tea into Elspeth's hands when she joined him in the kitchen.

"Aw, thank you," she said, smiling and sipping the tea. "So, how was your day?" Moriarty frowned at Elspeth and she raised her eyebrows back at him. "What? We're sort of fake dating to fool your family, we might as well get on. How was your day?"

"It was fine, thanks," Moriarty said, still frowning.

Elspeth waited. "This is the bit where you ask me how _my_ day was."

"I already know how your day was. You came in late and cried."

"You're really not very good at this fake dating stuff, are you? There are _feelings_ involved with dating, you know – people actually have to talk to each other," Elspeth told Moriarty, smirking when she thought about her earlier conversation with Mycroft. She'd gone her whole life avoiding talking to people and now she was trying to convince Moriarty to talk to her. It was nuts. "We can't just pop up at your mum's and pretend to be dating without it being convincing. She'll see right through it immediately."

"You give my mam more credit than is due," Moriarty told her, making Elspeth laugh.

"If she's anything like you, then I'm not giving her enough credit," she retorted. "Seriously, though, how is she not going to see right through us?"

"Well, if you want, we could always make progress in the _physical _aspect of our relationship," Moriarty drawled, sidling forwards and putting his hands either side of the counter so Elspeth was pressed between it and his chest. She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah," Elspeth said, pushing him away. "You wish."

Moriarty laughed and moved away without much protest. "You do realise we're going to have to share a bed, don't you?" he laughed when Elspeth nearly dropped her tea, staring back at him in shock and horror. "Didn't you know?"

"We can't do that."

"We're in a relationship –"

"A _fake_ relationship," Elspeth corrected through gritted teeth. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, realising that she should've known. Of course they were going to have to share a bed – they were pretending to be together, for goodness sake. What sort of couple didn't sleep in the same bed? "Do we have to?"

"Don't worry, you can be the little spoon," Moriarty assured her.

"That's not funny."

"You're right. It's hilarious."

Elspeth sighed and walked away, flopping onto the sofa. Her lips twitched into a small smile when she realised that they were bickering like an old married couple, but she didn't say so, nestling in the corner she'd started to think of as hers. It was cold. Shivering a little, Elspeth brought her knees to her chest and wrapped one arm around herself, holding the cup of tea against her leg and looking over at Moriarty when he sat down on the opposite end of the sofa. He glanced her way.

"Cold?" he asked. Elspeth shrugged, then nodded. "I know what'll cheer you up."

Elspeth rolled her eyes, turning away. "You're disgusting."

"Why do you always assume the worst?" Moriarty scoffed, shifting closer to Elspeth and draping an arm over the back of the sofa. She eyed him warily. "Come on. Come here, I'm not going to hurt you." Elspeth didn't move and Moriarty sighed. "Do you want to be cold?"

Sighing, Elspeth put the cup down on the coffee table, moved over to Moriarty, and let him put an arm around her. "I don't see why you couldn't just a blanket," she muttered.

"Mmm," Moriarty said under his breath. He didn't say that he much preferred to have Elspeth curled up against him the way she was, even if her elbow was digging into his side, and started to thread his fingers through her hair. Elspeth relaxed against him, squirming as she tried to get comfortable, and let Moriarty adjust his arm around her so he could pull her even closer. Even Elspeth had to admit that he was warmer than a blanket.

"We're not doing all this when we see your mum, by the way," Elspeth told him. She didn't have to look at him to know that Moriarty was frowning. "We're not a lovey-dovey, over excessive shows of PDA type couple, ok?"

"Why not?"

"Have you ever been physically affectionate to a girl before?" Elspeth asked. Moriarty was silent. "Exactly. We don't say the l-word either."

"The l-word?" Moriarty repeated, amusement colouring his tone. "Remind me, Ellie, how old are you?"

Elspeth elbowed him. "You know what I mean, and I don't know about you, but I can't just throw that word around like it doesn't mean anything. If you tell someone that you . . . _love_ them, then you have to _mean_ it. Otherwise don't say it at all." A thought sprung into Elspeth's mind and she sat up, turning to face Moriarty. "Have you ever told anyone you love them?"

Moriarty frowned, looking thoughtful. "Nope. Can't say I have."

"Really?" Elspeth's eyes were wide as she gazed back at him, her head tilted to the side. "Never?"

"Have you?" Moriarty countered, catching Elspeth off guard. She opened her mouth to respond and then shut it straight away, realising that she'd never told someone she loved them. Not in the romantic sense. She'd had boyfriends and kissed guys and had crushes, but Elspeth had never said _I love you_ to them, and her friends thought it was hilarious. They teased her about being scared of commitment, said she was going to grow old and die alone, and all the while Elspeth laughed along with them, never thinking twice about it.

_Do you love me?_ Elspeth wanted to ask Moriarty. She didn't have the guts – despite her morbid curiosity. _Do I love him?_ Elspeth asked herself, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer to that.

"No pet names either," Elspeth said sternly. Moriarty let out a remorseful sigh.

"Shame," he said. "I was looking forwards to calling you _baby_ all Christmas."

A devious grin spread across Elspeth's face. "You can call me that if I can call you _daddy_."

Moriarty gazed at Elspeth with wide eyes, realising a moment later that it was only a joke. "I wouldn't do that in front of my mam if I were you," he advised her. "You don't want to evoke the wrath of a crazy Irish Catholic woman, believe me."

"Why? Will she beat me with a cane?"

"I wouldn't put it past her," Moriarty said, grimacing. Noticing the fearful expression on Elspeth's face, he grinned. "I'm joking. But she really is a crazy Catholic woman, so no blasphemy or using the Lord's name in vain, or she'll make you regret it." Thinking back to all the times his mother had told him off for saying the wrong thing, Moriarty shuddered. "Just be your usual charming self and she'll love you."

Elspeth pursed her lips together. In a strange way, she did sort of want Moriarty's mother to like her. But then if she did like her, how long were Elspeth and Moriarty going to have to keep up the charade of a relationship? She didn't know if she could do that.

"What about Janine? Anything I need to know, be prepared for?"

"Janine? Nah, she's easy to get along with."

"I still can't believe you didn't tell me you had a twin sister," Elspeth muttered, giving Moriarty an unimpressed look. "That's so . . . I don't know. That's the sort of thing you tell people when you're in a relationship – fake or real. I must've looked like a right prat when I didn't know who she was."

"She's used to me keeping her a secret," Moriarty said. Elspeth frowned. "I don't want people to know I have an older, twin sister who used to beat me up. It's_ embarrassing._"

Elspeth laughed. "She did not beat you up."

"Ask her. She was _vicious_."

The idea of anyone beating Moriarty up made Elspeth laugh even harder, but she found it impossible to imagine him as a child, or even a teenager. There was something very adult about his dark eyes and smirked and self-assured manner; they weren't qualities normally found in young adults or children. For a few seconds, Elspeth tried to conjure the image of a younger, more innocent Moriarty without the gleam in his eyes or the confidence in his smirk. She couldn't do it.

"Jim," Elspeth murmured when she finally got herself together, composing herself after her fit of giggles.

"Yeah?"

"I'm still cold."

Rolling his eyes, Moriarty rose from the sofa and strode out of the living room, and Elspeth laughed to herself as she curled back up in her corner. A minute later he returned with a thick fleece blanket, throwing it over Elspeth before sitting next to her again. Elspeth held some of the blanket out towards Moriarty, offering to share it with him, but he declined politely and stretched his arm out on the back of the sofa again. He didn't touch Elspeth. She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"Do you go home often?" Elspeth asked, breaking the silence.

Moriarty's jaw clenched, his eyes staring ahead. "No."

"Are you . . ." Elspeth's voice trailed off. She was going to ask if he was looking forwards to it, but judging by his reaction to her first question, Elspeth supposed she already knew the answer. "I don't know if I could ever go back to Baker Street," she admitted instead, hoping that Moriarty would find some comfort in her words. "Too many memories. It would be too hard."

His eyes flashed to hers. "Don't pretend to know me, Elspeth."

Elspeth blinked. "I – I'm not –" she stammered, hurt and confused and only just realising that Moriarty hadn't called her Ellie like he usually did. _Elspeth_.

Moriarty snorted, clearly unimpressed by her stutters, and rose to his feet for a second time. He left and Elspeth sat on the sofa alone, tangled up in the blanket but feeling freezing cold when she heard Moriarty's bedroom door shut. She hadn't meant to hurt or upset or make him angry, but somehow, Elspeth had managed all three. When she flounced off in a strop, Moriarty followed her. Was that what he wanted? Did he want her to follow him?

She considered it for a second, weighing all the possibilities. The worst that could happen was that Moriarty would tell her to go away – or was that the worst? Moriarty was unpredictable and he wasn't behind physically attacking people, and Elspeth was worried that if she followed him, he might throw her out of his room. Literally. And after all the time that had passed, everything they had said and done, Elspeth didn't know if she and Moriarty would ever be able to move past something like that happening. What if Moriarty told her to leave? Elspeth didn't know if she would survive, not with all those people who wanted her dead.

A shiver ran down Elspeth's spine and she tugged the blanket even closer. She wondered what would happen if she didn't follow Moriarty. Would he get upset, or offended? She thought it might make him angry to be followed, but what if _not_ being followed made him even angrier?

Elspeth sighed, running a hand through her. _If only I hadn't opened my big mouth,_ she thought.

A minute had passed since Moriarty had left the room; Elspeth knew she had to come to a decision.

Throwing the blanket off, she walked through to the kitchen and started to boil the kettle, taking one of Moriarty's mugs from the cupboard. It was silly, really, but there was something comforting about hot drinks.

Moriarty was standing in the doorway of the kitchen when Elspeth turned around, jumping at his sudden appearance. There was a dark look in his eyes. Normally Elspeth would've felt afraid but she could see past the façade; she could tell that Moriarty was more upset than he cared to let on. She picked up his cup of tea, setting it down on the counter near him and watching Moriarty warily as he tore his eyes from hers, looking at the cup.

"I'm sorry," Elspeth whispered. "If I upset you. I didn't mean to."

He gazed at the cup of tea for a long time, seconds dragging on, and Elspeth watched with bated breath, hoping that she hadn't somehow offended him even more.

Looking up again, Moriarty's expression changed altogether. Elspeth's breath hitched when she saw the look in his eyes – an intensity that she didn't quite understand – and she watched him walk forwards, reaching out and closing the space between them. His hands were warm on her cheeks as Moriarty cupped her face, his fingers brushing against her skin so softly that a blush rose, and Elspeth could smell the combination of his expensive cologne and the mint from the gum he'd been chewing earlier, his breath tickling her face so the hairs on the back of her neck rose.

Her heart thrumming with nerves, anticipation, excitement – too many emotions for Elspeth to truly comprehend – as Moriarty drew closer.

The kiss was soft and chaste, his lips barely brushing hers, and Elspeth closed her eyes without thinking about it as she leaned in even closer to Moriarty. He drew back. His lips were parted slightly and his eyes were downcast, gauging her reaction, and Elspeth stared back at him shock, realising too late what had happened. She opened her eyes, stared at Moriarty and, with a boldness she didn't know she possessed, pressed herself against him to kiss him a second time.

He wasn't unresponsive.

Elspeth felt one of Moriarty's hands dip to the crook of her neck, sliding round to the back so he could pull her closer as his other arm slid around her waist, his fingertips gliding under the hem of her shirt so Elspeth could feel them skim against the small of her back. She shivered. Grasping the front of his shirt with both her hands, all Elspeth could think about was how much she wanted – _needed _– Moriarty, a soft gasp escaping her lips when he kissed her openly, his mouth moving against hers. His lips were warm and soft and coaxing her into a deep kiss, his fingers pressing insistently into her skin.

They stumbled backwards in unison; Elspeth felt the counter press against the backs of her legs. Her hands left Moriarty's shirt, her arms sliding up to wrap themselves around his neck so she could pull him as close as possible, and her action seemed to unleash something in him. With a quiet noise that almost sounded like a growl – it sent a tremor through Elspeth's body – Moriarty pushed himself against her so intimately that their bodies were joined together, their breaths heavy and laboured and frantic, and his hand tangled itself in her hair so he could arch her head back, deepening the kiss.

Moriarty's hand brushed against the waistband of Elspeth's jeans. That was when she pulled away, her cheeks flushed and her lips red, stunned by what had happened. She gazed up at Moriarty with such raw emotion in her eyes that he pulled away, no longer pressed against her.

Dragging his eyes from hers, Moriarty was silent as he turned and walked out of the kitchen, his footsteps echoing with every step he took. Elspeth blinked. She looked over at the cup of tea she'd made for him, realising he'd left it behind, but somehow she couldn't make herself move to give it to him. She was still breathing heavily.

Touching her lips where Moriarty had kissed them, her hand trembling, Elspeth didn't move from the kitchen for a very long time.

* * *

><p><em>Thank you Guest, Capricornwholovesbooks, tardislover1, Lylark, Deductions-of-Sherlolly, Adrillian1497, Guest, and That-Crazy-Psycho for reviewing!<br>Ask and you shall recieve . . . I'm honestly not sure how I feel, so please please please leave a review and let me know what you think! This was a hard chapter to write so I hope it paid off. _


	13. Chapter 13

_**13.**_

The flight to Ireland wasn't long. Moriarty and Elspeth left early in the morning – so early that she was still half asleep, yawning as she dragged her suitcase along behind her. Time had passed since their heated kiss in the kitchen and neither of them spoke about it. Moriarty and Elspeth barely spoke at all since the kiss, just made awkward small talk and occasionally catching each other's eye across the room before looking away again, but at that moment in time, Elspeth was too tired to care. She mumbled an apology when she bumped into Moriarty, smiling when he steadied her with his hand.

"Watch your head," Moriarty murmured, opening the door of the taxi for her while the driver put their bags in the boot. Elspeth slid into the seat, shifting over so Moriarty could sit next to her, and closed her eyes for a few seconds. "Tired?"

"Mmm," Elspeth said under her breath. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Didn't sleep much last night." She didn't add that Moriarty had kept her up all night – or rather her thoughts of him. She couldn't stop thinking back to that kiss. Elspeth had no idea what it meant or why it had happened, and that was what frustrated her so much; she was like Sherlock. She didn't like to not know the answer. And she definitely wasn't the sort of girl who just _kissed _people without it meaning something . . . it had meant something, hadn't it? Or had it just been some emotionally fuelled error in judgement? Elspeth wondered if Moriarty felt like it was a mistake.

In a strange way, she hoped that he didn't. She looked at him for a few seconds while he was occupied with his phone, quickly averting her gaze when Moriarty glanced up at her.

Moriarty frowned, his eyes flickering to the window. His mind was on the kiss as well. He had wanted to do that for a long time and it seemed like the right time, and when Elspeth responded the way she did, he hadn't been able to stop himself. He'd expected hesitance, maybe even fear, but not for Elspeth to press herself against him and kiss him back so openly.

Drumming his fingers against his leg, Moriarty cleared his throat. "Janine's meeting us at the airport."

"Alright," Elspeth said, her lips twitching into a soft smile when she met his eyes. She tucked her hair behind her ear. "I can't remember the last time I was on a plane." Grimacing, Elspeth added, "If I start to freak out, just whack me over the head and I should be alright."

Despite himself, Moriarty laughed. "You'll be fine."

"That's what you think. How long is the flight again?"

"Not long," Moriarty assured her. Elspeth smiled again, realising it was the longest conversation they'd had since the kiss, and leaned back in her seat, gazing out at the passing streets of London. She couldn't believe she was spending Christmas with Moriarty. In Ireland. She felt a pang of sadness when she remembered it was the first Christmas since she was three that she was going to spend without Sherlock and sighed quietly. "Everything alright?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry." Elspeth grinned sheepishly at Moriarty, who'd heard her sigh and was gazing at her with something akin to concern. "It's just weird spending Christmas away from London." _Without my Dad_, she wanted to say, but Elspeth bit her bottom lip to stop herself. There was no point. "Do you go home for Christmas every year?"

"No."

Elspeth didn't ask anything else. She could tell that home was a touchy subject for Moriarty and there was nowhere to storm off to, and Elspeth certainly didn't want to spend the rest of the cab ride in awkward silence with a man who was angry at her. They had to convince his family that they were together and arriving with an atmosphere between them was not the way to do it.

"Dibs on the window seat," she said instead. Moriarty gave her a sideways glance. "I want to sit by the window."

"I got that." His lips twitched. "Did you really just call _dibs_?"

"Yep, and it's a binding contract so you can't sit there, and neither can Janine," Elspeth told him sternly. Moriarty had to turn away so she wouldn't see him laugh and Elspeth grinned. "Don't laugh, Jim, it's a serious matter."

"It's hard not to laugh when you say things like dibs on the window seat," Moriarty pointed out, grinning from ear to ear as he tried not to laugh. He draped his arm over the back of the seats, his fingers brushing against Elspeth's shoulder, and she leaned into his touch almost instinctively. "Lucky me, sitting between you and Janine." He grimaced. "She's probably going to talk the whole way there, you know."

"Yipee," Elspeth muttered sarcastically. "Sorry, that's your sister. I didn't mean it."

"Yes you did."

"Ok, I did, but not in a bad way. I have my earphones anyway, so if you two drive me crazy, I can just ignore you," Elspeth teased. Moriarty smiled back at her. She yawned again, nestling into her seat. "Remind me again why we had to get up so early?"

"Because if we don't get there as soon as possible, my crazy mother will lose her mind. And you don't want that to happen," Moriarty added as an afterthought. Elspeth wondered if his mother was anything like him when _he_ lost his mind, but she didn't say so. She tried to imagine an older woman with his dark eyes and smirk, frowning when she failed miserably. "She's going to love you."

Elspeth raised an eyebrow. "Why do I have a hard time believing you?"

"Because you obviously know me far better than I thought."

Laughing, Elspeth said, "Maybe this fake relationship isn't as doomed as I thought it would be."

"That's my girl," Moriarty murmured fondly, reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed against her cheek and Elspeth pulled away, turning to look out of the window again. Moriarty frowned. He'd thought – well, he wasn't entirely sure what he'd thought, but he had expected a different reaction from Elspeth. Moriarty didn't say anything though, lowering his hand.

They got to the airport, and Elspeth waited for her suitcase to be unloaded. She looked up at the sky, imagining being in one of those airplanes that were flying above her. Moriarty glanced her way.

She looked so beautiful standing there, her head tilted back and a wistful expression her face. Not for the first time, Elspeth reminded Moriarty of one of those old fairy tales, the ones where the princess would gaze out of their window longingly and wait for their handsome prince. But Elspeth wasn't a damsel in distress.

As if sensing his eyes on her, Elspeth tore herself out of her daydream and looked over at Moriarty. She gave him a bright smile and Moriarty couldn't help but smile back at her because there was something incredibly infectious about Elspeth's happiness.

"Come on," he murmured, putting his hand on the small of her back. Elspeth grabbed the handle of her suitcase, thanking their driver and letting Moriarty guide her into the airport, where they were meeting Janine. Elspeth's eyes darted around; she felt a little disorientated by all the energy and movement. People rushed back and forth, carrying and dragging their luggage, calling to each other about passports and tickets. Moriarty looked at Elspeth when she shuffled closer to him. "Alright?"

"Yeah," Elspeth whispered, blinking. "It's just a bit much first thing in the morning, you know? I'll be fine." She reached out as she said this, grasping Moriarty's hand in her own and weaving their fingers together. He squeezed her hand. After a few seconds, Elspeth squeezed back.

"There you are!" Janine cried. "I thought I was going to have to make the journey home by myself." She kissed her brother on the cheek, then did the same to Elspeth, who felt taken aback by the sudden show of familiarity. "Did you two get here alright? The traffic was murder, wasn't it?"

"Told you," Moriarty murmured to Elspeth. She sniggered.

Janine's eyes flickered between them suspiciously. "What has he been saying about me?" she asked Elspeth.

"He's been singing your praises all morning."

"Now _that_ I find hard to believe," Janine retorted. "Come on, we don't want to miss our flight."

Elspeth grinned at Moriarty and he rolled his eyes when his sister's back was turned, following her.

"No Trevor, then?" Moriarty asked casually. Janine glared at him.

"No, he's gone back to America. Said something about his new business partner needing him."

After the necessary checks and procedures, they boarded the plane; Moriarty reached the seats first, stepping to the side so Elspeth could take the window seat. Janine smirked at the not-so-secret-secret smile her brother and Elspeth exchanged, letting Moriarty sit between them. It had been a long time since her twin had expressed an interest in anyone. It made her smile to think that he might have finally found someone.

Elspeth closed her eyes when the plane started to move, holding her seat in an iron grip. Moriarty took her hand in his own.

"It's nothing to be afraid of."

"Jim, I'm going to say this in the nicest way possible," Elspeth hissed. "_Shut up._" She turned and buried her face into Moriarty's shoulder so she'd have something to focus on, feeling him thread his fingers through her hair. That was far more reassuring than the way the plane jolted. "Is it over yet?"

"Look out of the window," Moriarty whispered in her ear.

Elspeth lifted her head slowly, grimacing at him and looking out of the window. Her eyes widened.

"Oh my God," Elspeth said, gazing out at the sky and clouds that were below them, taking everything in. "That – that is so cool! Look!" she grabbed Moriarty's hand again, shaking his arm. "Look, isn't that the most amazing thing you've ever seen?" She was so excited and awestruck because it was beautiful – far more beautiful than she could've ever imagined – and Moriarty couldn't help but smile at her; he'd never seen her get so excited before. Elspeth turned to him, her eyes shining. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes," Moriarty agreed, gazing back at Elspeth. "Beautiful."

* * *

><p>"Here we are," Janine said with a small sigh, unbuckling her seatbelt and gazing out of the window. "Home sweet home."<p>

Elspeth looked out of the window as well, taking in the small house in front of them. There wasn't anything particularly extraordinary about it. There was a small gate and a path leading up to the front door, and the lawn was neat and tidy, like someone had been taking good care of it. Elspeth tried to imagine a young Moriarty living there – running up the path, parking a bike in the front garden, maybe even doing some of the gardening – and frowned when she couldn't. She almost felt disappointed when she realised that the house was completely and utterly ordinary.

Janine led the way to the front door. Elspeth hung back, lingering behind Moriarty and feeling nervous; she was going to meet their mother. The thought terrified her, and not even Moriarty's reassuring smile could ease her nerves.

The front door burst open before they arrived, Moriarty's mother flying out to embrace her daughter. "Oh, there you are!" she cried in a thick Irish accent. "My baby girl – look at you, growing up so big! And _James_!" she whirled around to hug Moriarty as well, who accepted the embrace with a laugh. "You don't ring me enough, you know that? Here I am, wasting away to nothing, worrying about my children –"

"You look fine to me," Janine muttered, grinning from ear to ear.

"– while you're swanning off in _London_," her mother continued as if Janine hadn't spoken. "You're so inconsiderate." She sighed remorsefully, then glanced over at Elspeth. "Oh," she said to Moriarty. "So _this_ is the girl you've brought home to me, then."

"Yeah, I am," Elspeth blurted out before she could stop herself, frowning and feeling defensive. "I'm Ellie, and I can speak for myself, if you must know."

The older woman looked at her for a few seconds. Elspeth waited with bated breath, wondering if she had said the wrong thing, and jumped when Moriarty's mother cried out again. "Of course you can! Come here!" she embraced Elspeth as well, pulling her into a tight hug. "My name's Caitlin, dear, and I have a feeling you're going to fit in very well here." She kissed Elspeth's cheek, then batted Moriarty on the arm. "James, why haven't you brought this girl home sooner? You're not ashamed of your dear ol' mam, are you?"

"No, of course not," Moriarty said, rolling his eyes in a good natured manner.

Caitlin narrowed her eyes, not convinced. "What are you doing standing out here in the cold? Honestly, what are you all like? Get in, get in." She ushered them all inside, closing the door behind them, and Elspeth smiled at the rush of warmth that followed. "James, take your bags upstairs."

"I'll help," Elspeth offered, picking up her suitcase. She grinned at Moriarty. "You can show me around."

Moriarty smirked back at her, leading her upstairs and to his bedroom. It was a reasonable size and fairly similar to his room back in London – clean, tidy, plain walls; it looked as if Caitlin had cleaned out any of his old possessions in order to make the room more mature. Elspeth looked around, glancing over at the bookshelf and skimming the titles on the spines. They were obviously Caitlin's books, the ones she couldn't find any space for elsewhere, and a few framed family photos were lined up in a row. Putting her suitcase down, Elspeth wandered over to the shelf and picked one of them up, smiling at the photo of a young Moriarty and Janine. They were sitting side by side, smiling at the camera, and Elspeth couldn't help but smile as well as she put it back on the shelf.

"You know," Moriarty murmured from behind, his hand on Elspeth's shoulder. "I think mam likes you."

"Yeah, well, what's not to like?" Elspeth joked. She felt a little pleased with herself, grinning as she turned to face Moriarty. "I did well, huh?"

"Brilliantly," he agreed.

Elspeth beamed up at him. "Come on," she said, brushing past Moriarty and grinning over her shoulder as she walked towards the door. "I distinctly remember you promising to show me around." She darted out of the room with a sway of her hips and Moriarty laughed, shaking his head. There wasn't much to see and they ended up in the kitchen with Janine and Caitlin, who was making hot drinks for everyone. The kitchen was small and chaotic and Elspeth felt at home there.

"So, Ellie, how'd you two meet?" Caitlin asked, handing her a cup of tea. "It's been such a long time since James has had a woman in his life." She pinched Moriarty's cheek, laughing when he batted her away.

"We met through friends," Elspeth said with a grin in Moriarty's direction. He grinned back.

"It was love at first sight."

"For you, maybe," she retorted. Caitlin laughed.

"You tell him, girl – I hope you're treating this one right, James, I didn't raise you to break hearts. No matter how pretty you think you are." Caitlin smirked at her son and Elspeth realised that was where Moriarty got his dark smile from. "Don't you let him mess you around," she added, pointing at Elspeth. "I know what he's like."

"Well I'd say they're pretty serious," Janine said with a mischievous grin. "Considering they live together."

"Oh, is that so?" Caitlin put her hands on her hips cocking an eyebrow at Moriarty and Elspeth. "And when were you planning on telling me _that_, exactly?"

Elspeth's cheeks burned. She glanced over at Moriarty, asking for help, and he grimaced back at her, looking the most ashamed she'd ever seen him look. Caitlin narrowed her eyes at both of them, unimpressed, and Moriarty glared at his twin sister in annoyance. She'd thrown them completely under the bus, which she did a lot; when they were kids and Moriarty did something wrong or naughty, Janine would 'accidentally' let it slip to their parents. He hated her for it.

She didn't say so, but Caitlin felt slightly pleased for her son. She wasn't joking around when she'd said that it had been a long time since he had a girlfriend, and if they were living together, that meant it was serious. The most serious Moriarty had ever been with someone. Yes, there had been girlfriends in the past – maybe even the occasional boyfriend; Caitlin wouldn't put it past her son – but when he looked at Elspeth, it was clear to Caitlin that her son had found someone very special.

"I hope you brought a good suit for Church, James," she said. "I promised Father O'Malley we'd be there tomorrow."

"Church?" Elspeth repeated, confused. Moriarty hadn't mentioned Church.

"Midnight Mass," Janine explained for her. "We go every year like good little Catholics."

Elspeth smiled. She had never been to Church before – not for a service, anyway. She'd gone to a few with her friends before to take photos or sketch, but she'd never attended a service, and the idea excited her. She had never been a spiritual person and it was strange to think that Moriarty was.

"Sounds good," she said softly.

Caitlin started to tell Elspeth about Midnight Mass and the priest and the regular Church goers she'd made friends with over the years, and while Elspeth listened, Moriarty watched her with a small smile. It had gone better than he'd expected and he couldn't take his eyes off her because she looked so beautiful, leaning against the counter with a small smile on her face. Elspeth looked over at Moriarty, her smile widening when their eyes met. He smiled back at her.

"Alright, unless you're here to help with the dinner, you can get out of my kitchen," Caitlin announced. Janine decided to stay and help, reaching for the vegetable peeler, but Moriarty put his hand on the small of Elspeth's back and guided her out.

"I'm going to show Ellie around the village," he called over his shoulder. "We'll be back in time for dinner."

"Walk around the village?" Elspeth asked. "Sounds exciting."

"Shut up and get your coat."

Elspeth laughed and fetched her coat, pulling on a hat and scarf just in case. Moriarty watched her in bemusement and pulled his coat on, buttoning it up. He held his arm out to her and Elspeth took it, smiling as he led out of the front door. It was colder outside. Elspeth shuffled a bit closer to Moriarty without thinking and he smiled down at her as they walked down the road together, towards the lit up village. Christmas carols grew louder in volume the closer they got, and soon Elspeth realised there were carollers in the street. She grinned.

"I can't believe that you grew up here," Elspeth said thoughtfully, looking around. Moriarty made a small noise under his breath and she tightened her arm around his, leaning her head against his shoulder. "It's really pretty, like something out of a storybook. We'll have to come out again tomorrow so I can get some photos."

"Of course," Moriarty murmured. He had a thoughtful expression in his eyes and Elspeth lifted her head to gaze up at him, frowning.

"What's up?" she asked him. "Is it weird being home?"

His lips twitching into a small smile, Moriarty said, "You could say that."

Elspeth smiled back. She didn't say so, but she quite liked the softer side of Moriarty. It made him seem more human, and after everything that they'd been through, Elspeth felt comforted by the thought.

They strolled along through the village and Elspeth listened to Moriarty tell her about the village. He pointed out the pub he used to go to with his dad and the corner shop where he and Janine would always buy sweets after school and the park that he and his friends would play in when they were really young, and as he did, Elspeth felt like she was getting more insight into who Moriarty really was. She had shown him London the way she knew it and now he was doing the same in Ireland, and Elspeth would've never thought that in a million years, she'd be sharing these kind of moments with him

The village was truly beautiful. Elspeth couldn't wait for the morning when she could get some photos, already eyeing buildings and considering angles. The thought made her smile; she was such a nerd sometimes.

Moriarty watched Elspeth out of the corner of his eye, gauging her reaction. Her cheeks were pink from the wind and the tip of her nose was steadily turning red, but she hadn't stopped smiling since they'd arrived in the village and she was still holding onto his arm, her eyes darting about in amazement. He smiled to himself. Moriarty wasn't a big fan of Christmas – it was too much hassle, in his opinion – but perhaps this one wouldn't be as awful as he thought.

"Your mum seems nice," Elspeth said when they turned back, heading home. "I thought she was some crazy, cane wielding Catholic woman."

"I may have exaggerated a bit," Moriarty admitted. Elspeth let out an indignant noise, gently punching him in the side – it wasn't anywhere near hard enough to hurt him – and glaring up at him without any malice in her eyes. He laughed. "You probably wouldn't have believed me if I told you she was _normal_."

"Nothing about you or your family is normal," Elspeth grumbled.

"That's rich coming from you."

* * *

><p>Elspeth stared at the reflection in the bathroom mirror, huffing as she pushed her hair out of her eyes, tying it back. Dinner had been amazing; Caitlin sort of reminded Elspeth of Mrs Hudson because they were both fantastic cooks, and that had made her miss home a little. It was strange not to be in London, especially when it was so close to London, and she wondered how Mycroft and John were. Mycroft would be pleased for the quiet, she supposed, and John wouldn't be alone. Even so, she worried. She couldn't help it.<p>

But now she had a more important issue to deal with, and that was sharing a bed with Moriarty.

Elspeth thought she'd be alright with it. She had fallen asleep with him there before. But those times were different; the first time she'd been bruised and battered, too weak to do anything, and the second they had been on top of the covers and she'd been completely dressed.

Now, however, she was in her pyjamas. And he was going to be in pyjamas as well – Elspeth hoped.

"Buck up, Holmes," Elspeth muttered to herself, gripping the edge of the sink and glaring at her reflection. "You can _do_ this."

She picked up the clothes she'd thrown on the floor before she had a shower – a hot shower always made Elspeth relaxed and sleepy – and unlocked the bathroom door, striding down the corridor to Moriarty's room before she could chicken out. He was in his pyjama bottoms when she walked in, glancing over his shoulder at her.

"You took your time."

Elspeth glowered back at him, hanging her clothes up in the wardrobe next to his suits. It felt weird.

"Could you _please_ put a shirt on?" she asked without looking at him, throwing her dirty socks and underwear into her suitcase. Behind her, Moriarty laughed.

"Why? Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"A little, yeah," Elspeth admitted. She only felt uncomfortable because there was something really rather attractive about a shirtless Moriarty and the night was going to be awkward enough without her getting flustered every time she brushed against his chest. The thought made Elspeth's cheeks burn. Moriarty laughed again, picking up a spare shirt and pulling it on over his head.

"It's alright, you can look now," he teased. Elspeth wasn't sure if she really wanted to, but she turned around anyway, folding her arms as she raised her eyes to meet Moriarty's. "I'm going to the bathroom. Make yourself comfortable."

Moriarty winked at her and Elspeth looked away, pursing her lips together. Her cheeks were on fire.

There was only one thing she could do, and though she felt so awkward, Elspeth pulled the covers back and climbed into bed. It was a double bed, which meant there was plenty of room, but she scooted right over so she was practically pressed against the wall and rolled onto her side so she was facing it. She didn't want to have to look at Moriarty all night.

Elspeth squeezed her eyes shut, pretending that she didn't hear the bedroom door open and shut again. The light switch clicked and the room was engulfed in darkness, and Elspeth screwed her eyes shut even tighter when the mattress dipped beneath Moriarty's weight. He settled in behind her, his breath on the back of her neck indicating that he was facing her, and when he reached out to wrap his arms around her waist, Elspeth moved away so fast she almost hit the wall.

"What are you _doing_?" she hissed angrily, sitting up. Even in the dark she could see Moriarty's amused smirk as he propped himself up on his elbows.

"Come on, Ellie, don't act shy _now_."

"I am not shy but we're –" Elspeth paused, taking in a deep breath. "We are not _spooning_," she whispered in mortification.

"Would you rather be the big spoon?" Moriarty asked, dead serious. Elspeth stared back at him in shock and horror.

"No I would not! Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you?" Elspeth pinched the bridge of her nose and Moriarty watched her, waiting. She let out a heavy sigh. She couldn't not sleep in the bed because Caitlin and Janine would be suspicious, but Moriarty had shocked her by trying to embrace her so openly . . . _I've done it before_, Elspeth thought. _Why can't I do it again?_

Moriarty sat up, tucking a strand of hair behind Elspeth's ear. "I was only joking about being the big spoon," he told her softly. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

Elspeth grinned sheepishly, biting her bottom lip. "Was I overreacting?"

"Nah," Moriarty said, scrunching his nose up. "My hands are freezing so it would be a surprise." Elspeth laughed quietly and Moriarty smiled back, lying down. "Come on. I won't bite – unless you want me to," he added with a cheeky wink.

"Why do you have to make everything weird?" Elspeth muttered. Moriarty grinned and Elspeth hesitated before lying back down, squirming around as she tried to get comfy. Moriarty muttered something about it like being in bed with a Chihuahua and Elspeth elbowed him in the stomach, smirking when he breathed in sharply. When she finally settled down, Elspeth waited for Moriarty to put his arms around her again. But he didn't.

Elspeth didn't mind. But it felt weird to be in a bed with someone and feel so close to them yet so far away . . . she bit her lip again, relieved that Moriarty couldn't see her face.

After another moment's hesitation, Elspeth wriggled about and rolled over so she was facing Moriarty, her eyes meeting his. He didn't say anything, just gazed at her. He reached out and brushed his finger along the line of her cheekbone, and Elspeth shut her eyes as he did so, the action soft and comforting. It was too late to change her mind or regret her decisions, and Elspeth knew that she had made her bed, so she may as well lie in it.

"If you try to spoon me," she murmured. "I'm going to punch you in the nuts."

"You're so romantic," Moriarty said. "Remind me why I'm pretending to be in love with you again?"

Elspeth wanted to ask if he was only pretending. "Because," she said instead. "We're in too deep now. If we tell your family it was all a lie, we'll only have each other to spend Christmas with and you know that'll end in disaster."

"Oh, I don't know. We could have a nice time."

Elspeth raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Moriarty repeated quietly, his lips twitching into a grin. Elspeth slid her hand under the pillow and grinned back. "I'd cook –"

"Obviously," she interrupted. "Sorry. It's just, y'know, I'm _terrible_ at cooking." There had been many cooking disasters in 221B despite Mrs Hudson's best efforts to teach Elspeth, and Sherlock and John found it hilarious that no matter how many times she failed, Elspeth would try again a few days later. She managed to blow up a pasty in the microwave once and spent the whole day cleaning it while Sherlock and John were off on a case. "We'd have turkey, obviously."

"_Duh_. It isn't Christmas without a turkey," Moriarty said, sounding as if Elspeth had committed a terrible sin suggesting otherwise. "And all the trimmings. You'd decorate the tree because you're _so_ artistic."

"Why do I feel like you're mocking me when you say it like that?" Elspeth laughed. "Ok, I'll decorate the tree – and the flat, the whole apartment has got to have decorations. Tinsel and paper chains and fake snow –"

"No fake snow," Moriarty told her. Elspeth sighed.

"You're such a buzzkill. Ok, no fake snow . . . the tree would have to be huge, obviously, and we'd have to put all the presents underneath on Christmas Eve."

"You'd buy me presents?" Moriarty asked, genuinely surprised.

"Well _duh_, it is Christmas. You'd have to buy me some as well though, it goes both ways, and we could open them on Christmas morning together before you start making lunch."

"What would we do after lunch?"

"Leave all the dishes in the dishwasher and lie around on the sofa, watching those crappy Christmas movies they play every year because we'd be too full to do anything else," Elspeth said. Moriarty smiled at the shine in her eyes, practically hanging off her words because she sounded so wistful and hopeful. It was adorable, really.

"Maybe we can do it next year," Moriarty said without thinking. Elspeth stiffened. "What?"

"Nothing. It's just –" Elspeth frowned, trying to put her thoughts into words. "_Next year_. It makes it sound like . . ." her voice trailed off. "Like I'll still be with you," she finally said. "And that sounds like I don't want to be with you next year and in a weird way, I actually kind of do because you're not as scary as you pretend to be, and honestly if it hadn't been for you I'd probably be dead now." Elspeth stopped and took in a deep breath, too embarrassed to meet Moriarty's eyes when she realised she'd been babbling. "But yeah, next year . . . we should do that next year. It sounds good."

"Right," Moriarty said. "It's decided. We'll stay at home next year for Christmas."

Elspeth nodded. "We can invite Sebastian. And Janine and Victor if they want to come for lunch – and if your mum's willing to fly over we can have her round for a few days. It'll be nice and I'm putting way too much thought into this, aren't I?"

Moriarty's laughter was the only response she needed. Elspeth groaned and buried her face in the pillow.

"Better get some sleep," Moriarty advised. "We've got a long day tomorrow."

"Ok." Elspeth's voice was muffled by the pillow. "Good night." She rolled over onto her side so her back was to Moriarty, and when he slid his arm around her waist, Elspeth didn't try to pull away. They stayed like that for the entire night.

* * *

><p><em>Thank you ahundredyears-itsnothing, Adrillian1497, JuliaBP, ElizabethCullen08, tardislover1, TheDoctorIsMyGuardian, That-Crazy-Psycho, Deductions-of-Sherlolly, Walking Entity of Sass, Capricornwholovesbooks, Guest, Lylark, and Guest for reviewing!<em>

_Sorry for the delay, I've been so busy with Uni and Christmas, and I managed to fall all the way from the top to the bottom of my stairs at home this morning, which was incredibly broken. Nothing's broken or damaged, but I now have some impressive bruises! Let me know what you think of the chapter - I love hearing from you! _


	14. Chapter 14

_**14.**_

It was the morning of Christmas Eve and Elspeth wasn't sure how, but she ended up in the kitchen, baking with Janine.

"I've never really done much baking before," Elspeth admitted, tying the apron strings and scraping back her hair so it didn't get in the way. Janine smiled at her. "I made cakes with Mrs Hudson – my old landlady – last year but they were terrible. I forgot to sieve the flour properly." She smiled to herself at the memory, her smile fading when she remembered the silly play-fight she'd had with Sherlock when he teased her about how bad her baking was. "Everyone ate them even though they were so bad."

Janine's smile turned sympathetic, and she put her hand on Elspeth's arm for a few seconds. "It's always been a bit of a tradition of ours," she said. "Eating homemade biscuits in front of the fire on Christmas Eve . . . Jim does it even though he really doesn't like Christmas all that much."

"Doesn't he?"

"Well, he pretends not to. I think he's just a grumpy sod." Janine and Elspeth laughed. "He's a lot happier this year though – you have something to do with that, I reckon," Janine added with a cheeky grin. Elspeth's cheeks burned.

"Really? I . . . uh, I'll take that as a compliment," Elspeth said, biting her bottom lip as she tried not to grin. It did feel rather flattering to think that she'd cheered Moriarty up but she didn't say so, washing her hands at the sink and drying them off. "So what is it like, working for a huge newspaper company? It sounds awesome."

Janine laughed. "You make it sound more glamourous than it really is. I'm the PA of a man who owns a huge newspaper company."

"No offence, but that man is super creepy."

"Mmm, he does have a way of getting under people's skin. I get to read all the articles before they're printed though," Janine added cheerfully, making Elspeth smile. "Do you have a job?"

Elspeth's cheeks turned red. "I'm sort of . . . unemployed at the moment," she mumbled, embarrassed because it made her seem like she was depending on Moriarty for his money, which she _wasn't_ because she had money of her own, but Janine didn't know that. She didn't look judgmental though. "I . . . I always thought that I was going to finish college, go to university and get an art degree . . . go from there." Elspeth sighed. "But that sort of fell apart when my Dad died."

"I remember when my da died," Janine said. Elspeth looked at her. "I cried for weeks."

"Were you close to him, then?"

"I was. Jim wasn't – he's always been a bit of a mammy's boy."

"Well, that sort of explains why he's so high maintenance," Elspeth said with a wry grin. "He spends more time in the bathroom than I do."

"He's always been like that. When we were teenagers, Jim couldn't walk past a mirror without stopping to admire himself or sort out his hair." Janine flicked through the recipe book. "Aha, here it is. You'd think after years of baking them I'd know how to make these damn biscuits by now."

Elspeth found it surprisingly fun to bake with Janine; she was good company, full of stories about her and Moriarty, and a great listener when Elspeth told her about the Christmases she'd spent with her family. Elspeth realised she actually quite liked Janine, which was weird because she never expected to get on so well with Moriarty's family. What surprised Elspeth even more, however, was how nice and welcoming they'd been, inviting Elspeth in and treating her like she was one of them. It had been a long time since Elspeth had felt so welcome.

She and Janine were halfway through the second batch of biscuits when Moriarty walked into the kitchen, kissing Elspeth's cheek from behind. "Morning," he said cheerfully. "Something smells good."

"Biscuits," Elspeth explained, tucking her hair behind her ear. She was covered in flour. "Janine did most of the work so you don't have to worry about me accidentally killing you with awful tasting biscuits." Moriarty smiled at her, reaching out to wipe some flour off her cheek with his thumb, and Elspeth blushed. "I was a bit vigorous with the flour."

"I can see that."

"Hey, hands off my baking partner," Janine said, knocking her wooden spoon against Moriarty's hand. "You can have your way with her when we're done."

Elspeth laughed. "I'd get out of the kitchen before Janine chucks you out if I were you."

"Shame. I quite enjoy seeing this domestic side to you," Moriarty teased. Janine shot him a testy look, unimpressed by her brother's flirting, and he laughed, holding his hands up in the air. "Alright, alright, I'm going." He turned to leave, then whirled back round to press a quick kiss to the corner of Elspeth's mouth, his hand lingering on her jaw when she stared back at him. Moriarty gave her a cheeky grin, winking at her. "See you later."

"You two are so cute it's disgusting," Janine grumbled as she put the first batch of biscuits into the oven. Elspeth bit her bottom lip. "Pass me the flour."

* * *

><p>"You're really enjoying this too much," Elspeth said, standing in front of the mirror and tugging a brush through her unruly hair. The day had passed in a blur, everyone preparing for Christmas the next day, and it was nearly time to leave for Midnight Mass, which Elspeth couldn't help but feel slightly excited for. She'd never been to anything like it before. "<em>Way<em> too much. Can you pass me my hairband?"

Moriarty chuckled, handing it to her. "Don't pretend you're not enjoying it either," he drawled. Elspeth glowered at him. "I know you, Ellie."

"You're so cocky," she muttered under her breath, securing her bun. "Alright, how do I look?"

"Beautiful."

"I'd find that convincing if you hadn't answered straight away." Elspeth smoothed down her dress and turned around, screwing her nose up at Moriarty. "You can't go to Church with your shirt like that," she said, reaching up and doing up the top button of his shirt, which Moriarty had left open. "You've got to look sensible."

"I think you're doing that the wrong way," Moriarty teased, catching Elspeth's hands in his own and weaving their fingers together. "You're supposed to be _undoing_ the buttons."

Her cheeks burning, Elspeth pulled away. "You wish."

He smirked back and Elspeth picked up her coat, folding it over her arm as she left with Moriarty following close behind, his hand resting on the small of her back. It was polite, casual contact that Moriarty could get away with in front of his strict mother, who – though pleased to see her son with someone – didn't approve of open PDA. But it was also a gesture that screamed over protectiveness, and Elspeth wasn't sure how she felt about it. Some girls thought it was romantic; she thought it was creepy.

"I want you to behave yourselves during the service," Caitlin told them. "Yes, I'm looking at you, James. No silly faces, or noises, or _pretending _to sing the hymns – Janine, that means you, young lady. I want a nice, proper Midnight Mass this year. No messing around."

Elspeth looked up at Moriarty, wondering what he and Janine had done in the past to earn a scolding from their mother. He smirked back at her.

The Church was small but beautiful, the colours of the glass stained windows dancing in the light of the candles and the knowing looks in the saint's eyes following Elspeth as she walked down the aisle behind Janine. Craning her neck back, she admired the sturdy structure of the roof, grinning when she realised it somewhat reminded her of a boat. There were small statues of angels and cherubs carved into the stone columns either side of the pews, so brilliantly detailed that Elspeth couldn't take her eyes off them. Her eyes took everything in, etching it all onto her brain so she could sketch it later. Moriarty smiled at her even though she didn't notice.

Caitlin found an empty pew a few rows from the front, sitting on the end and looking so prim and proper that Elspeth bit her lip. Taking off her coat, she sat between Moriarty and Janine. She was self-conscious about her posture, sitting up as straight as she could and folding her hands on her lap while trying not to openly gawp at the beauty of her surroundings.

"What do you think?" Moriarty asked her softly, leaning in close so Caitlin and Janine wouldn't hear.

"It's beautiful," Elspeth whispered. Reaching out, Moriarty covered Elspeth's hand with his own, holding it only for a few seconds before his mother shot him a disapproving look. Elspeth gave him a bright, teasing grin. Moriarty couldn't help but grin back at her.

The service began, and though Elspeth had never been religious, she found beauty in Father O'Malley's words. He spoke about Christmas and God and Jesus, retelling the story of the birth of Christ with such clear imagery that Elspeth could imagine the entire thing in her mind, captivated by the way he spoke. The smell of incense lingered in the air, a pleasant and hazy scent, and the organ rang through the entire Church when everyone rose to their feet, singing hymns. Elspeth shared a hymn sheet with Moriarty and she'd never heard him sing before, amazed that his low voice was actually rather pleasant to listen to. Then again, no one cared about their voice in Church because there were so many people there that even the best of singers was lost in the crowd.

It was all so beautiful and innocent and loving, and Elspeth couldn't believe that it was part of Moriarty's life. She'd expected him to mess around but he sung, listened with undivided attention, and even bowed his head and prayed. Elspeth felt as if she was seeing yet another side to him.

When the service was over, Caitlin went to speak with Father O'Malley and Janine caught up with a few old school friends, leaving Moriarty and Elspeth to talk.

"That was amazing," Elspeth said quietly, biting her lip as she grinned up at Moriarty. "Do you really do this every year?"

Moriarty nodded, grimacing. "Believe me, it gets boring once you've done it your whole life," he said under his breath, glancing around to make sure that no one heard him. Elspeth giggled. "You've never been to something like this before, have you?"

Shaking her head, Elspeth said, "My Dad didn't even know how the solar system worked. Why would he believe in some higher power born to save the whole of mankind?" She sighed. "I guess I could've gone on my own . . . it just never seemed like something I'd consider, you know? I'm glad I came, though."

"Don't let mam hear you say that – she'll get baptised before you can convince her otherwise."

Elspeth laughed. "This place is so amazing," she murmured. "I mean – beautiful. Sorry."

"I'm sure God takes it as a compliment," Moriarty said solemnly. Elspeth snorted with laughter, hiding her face behind her hands so no one would hear, and he smirked as he put an arm around her. "I think we can meet mam and Janine outside. They won't be long."

"You're just trying to get me alone," Elspeth muttered under her breath, still red in the face from trying not to laugh. Moriarty squeezed her shoulder.

The cool air hit her and Elspeth inhaled the freshness, incense clinging to the back of her throat. It was early in the morning – so early that it was still pitch black – and freezing cold, and she felt herself shivering when she wrapped her arms around herself in a pitiful attempt to warm herself up. Elspeth had hoped to see some snow over Christmas, but had no such luck. She settled for the beauty of the landscapes though. Even if it was freezing.

"Cold?" Moriarty asked. He didn't give Elspeth a chance to respond before wrapping his arms around her from behind, his chest pressed against her back and his hot breath tickling the back of her neck. She stiffened.

"What are you doing?"

"Warming you up. It'll happen a lot of quicker if you'd just relax."

It was easier said than done. Elspeth tried to relax, to stop herself from shivering, and leaned into Moriarty's embrace rather than away from it like she wanted to. She hated to admit that it did help a little.

"What are you two doing?" Janine asked from behind them, holding a small baby in her arms.

"Just warming Ellie up," Moriarty said innocently. He kept his arms around Elspeth. "Please tell me that baby isn't yours."

Janine laughed. "No! This is Anthony, he's Beth's son – you remember Beth from school, don't you? She got married a couple of years ago and this one was born in June. Isn't he adorable?" Janine cooed over the baby – Anthony – and kissed his round, rosy cheek. "Here, say hello to Uncle Jim!" She handed Anthony over to Moriarty, who cradled him in his arms without any qualms, and went to get her coat from inside the Church; Elspeth stared at Moriarty in amazement.

"Hello, little man," Moriarty said with a grin. He looked at Elspeth. "Do you want to hold him?"

"Uh – no, it's alright, you just got him," Elspeth said quickly, taking a small step back when Anthony looked her way as her, his small mouth spreading into a wobbly smile. Moriarty frowned at her. "He's happy with you anyway," she continued as Anthony started to stretch his arms towards her. Most people would've taken him but Elspeth turned away, pretending that she couldn't see.

"Nonsense, he wants to say hi. Here."

Moriarty thrust Anthony into Elspeth's arms before she could protest and she struggled to keep a hold of him, wrapping one arm around his waist and cradling the back of his head like she'd seen other women do with their babies. He was a lot heavier than he looked and squirmed around in her arms, chubby hands grasping at the loose strands of her hair. Elspeth grimaced when Anthony drooled on her shoulder, his tiny feet kicking into her waist. She glanced at Moriarty, who smirked back at her.

"You're acting like you've never held a baby before."

"I haven't," Elspeth admitted. "Not really." She grimaced again and recoiled from Anthony a little. "Babies and me . . . we're not good." Looking down at the baby in her arms and taking in his bright eyes, chubby cheeks, and his totally adorable smile, Elspeth bit her lip. "He's kinda cute, I guess. Y'know, when he's not dribbling all over me."

Laughing softly, Moriarty reached out and stroked Anthony's tufts of hair. "I had no idea you didn't like babies."

"I had no idea you did." Elspeth adjusted her arms around Anthony. "I can't imagine ever being a mother." She didn't say so, but Elspeth thought it had something to do with how her mother had treated her when she was young. She wasn't much of a role model.

* * *

><p>After a few more hours sleep, Elspeth woke up later that morning in Moriarty's room, curled up in the duvet with her face buried into the pillow. She yawned, rolled over, and bumped straight into Moriarty with a sleepy noise of protest, glaring at him.<p>

"What are you doing in here?"

He laughed. "It's my room."

Elspeth screwed her nose up, squeezing her eyes shut. "What day is it?"

"You really are tired, aren't you?" Moriarty teased, stroking Elspeth's hair out of her face. He was sitting up next to her so his voice sounded odd and far away to her, and Elspeth lifted her head slightly to meet his amused gaze. "It's _Christmas_, Ellie."

"Oh." Frowning, Elspeth sat up. "Oh yeah. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Moriarty echoed with a grin, still playing with Elspeth's hair and leaning in close. "Do I get a Christmas kiss?" Laughing, Elspeth pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and climbed out of bed, leaving Moriarty to pout. "You're such a tease."

"You love it really," Elspeth said with a grin, pulling her jumper on over her head. She rooted through her back for a few seconds and her grin widened when she found what was looking for; a small, carefully wrapped present. Elspeth crossed the room and sat down opposite Moriarty, crossing her legs beneath her as she held the present out towards him. He gazed back at her with a frown. "You can take it. It's for you."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Elspeth shrugged. "It's Christmas."

Moriarty looked at her for a few seconds longer, then took the present from her. He poked and prodded at it, shaking it next to his ear, and Elspeth watched him. When he finally decided to open it, Moriarty ripped the paper apart with the excitement of a small child. It was a box, and inside the box was his present; it was a watch. The leather strap was a deep brown and the face of the watch was shiny, clearly brand new, and when Moriarty inspected it, he realised it was a _designer_ watch. For a second, he wondered what Elspeth had got the money for such an expensive gift. He didn't say so.

"Ellie," he said in a low voice, his eyes meeting hers. "This is amazing."

"I noticed you didn't have one," Elspeth said modestly, her cheeks turning pink. "And after everything you've done for me . . ." her voice trailed off and she bit her bottom lip. "I wanted to get you something nice. To say thank you." Elspeth's cheeks were burning as she spoke, especially when she realised that Moriarty hadn't taken his eyes off her since he'd opened the gift, and she ducked her head for a few seconds, tucking her hair behind her ear. "So yeah. Merry Christmas."

Moriarty continued to gaze at her, opening his mouth to say something; he was interrupted by Janine bursting in without warning.

"I thought I heard you two talking," she said. "Merry Christmas! Mam's making breakfast and it smells _delicious_ so I'd get your arses downstairs right now, if I were you."

Janine left the room as suddenly as she'd entered it and Elspeth laughed, relieved for the distraction.

"Your sister is nuts," she said to Moriarty. "Come on, let's get breakfast."

"Not so fast." Moriarty caught Elspeth's wrist before she could dart out of the room. He felt her pulse jump beneath his fingers. "I've got to give you my present first," he murmured in a sinfully low voice. Elspeth felt a shiver run down her spine as she sat back down, hugging one of her knees to her chest as she watched Moriarty go through his belongings. "Here."

The gift he handed her was small – far smaller than the one she'd given him. Elspeth held it for a few seconds, then began to carefully peel away the wrapping paper. Her heart missed a beat when she saw it was a jewellery box.

"Jim . . ."

"Just open it."

Putting the wrapping paper to one side, Elspeth undid the small latch and opened the box.

Inside, nestled on a bed of velvet, was a beautiful silver ring; in the centre was a heart with a small crown on top, and either side of the heart were hands cradling it. Elspeth stared at it for a long time, lost for words, and the mattress dipped when Moriarty moved closer to her. He was so close that she could count every single individual eyelash of his, his dark eyes piercing hers as Moriarty explained to Elspeth what the ring meant. It was a Claddagh ring, a traditional Irish ring, and represented love, loyalty, and friendship.

"You wear it on your right hand," he continued, taking the ring out of the box and sliding it onto Elspeth's finger with the tip of the heart pointing towards her fingertips. "Like this if you're single and looking for love." Moriarty took the ring off her and turned it around, the tip of the heart pointing to Elspeth's knuckles. "Or like this if you're in a relationship."

"It's so pretty," Elspeth murmured, holding her hand out so she could admire how the ring looked. "Thank you."

Smiling back at her, Moriarty took Elspeth's hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. "You might want to wear it that way if we're keeping up this charade," he told her, still holding onto her hand. "It suits you."

Elspeth beamed back at him. "You have to put your watch on. Pass it here."

Moriarty handed it to her and Elspeth sat across from him, her fingers brushing against his skin as she did the watch up around his wrist for him.

"How do I look?" he asked, a teasing shine in his eyes.

"Gorgeous," Elspeth assured him. "Can we go get breakfast now? I'm starving."

Nodding, Moriarty took Elspeth by the hand and they walked downstairs together, joining Caitlin and Janine in the kitchen. They must've had something to do with Moriarty giving Elspeth the ring because they exchanged knowing glances when Elspeth – pretending to be the clueless but enamoured girlfriend – showed it to them. She made sure to gush and tell them that he was the best boyfriend ever, and Moriarty laughed as he wrapped an arm around her from behind.

"Jeez, Ellie, you're making me blush here," he teased, reaching round her to accept the cup of tea his mother handed him. Elspeth grinned back, pulling away so she could drink her own tea, and Moriarty showed Caitlin and Janine his watch. He was a very good actor. Elspeth was almost convinced that he was a doting boyfriend before remembering a few seconds later that it was all an act. Moriarty didn't care about her the way he was pretending to. For some reason, the thought made her frown. It was weird to think that, after everything they'd done to convince his family they were together, when they got home, Moriarty and Elspeth were going to go back to how it was before. Before the pretending, the lies, before the _kiss_.

Elspeth still thought about that kiss. She couldn't stop thinking about the kiss. She knew that she had to talk to him about it someday – _soon_ – but she didn't dare because it would only make it so much more real, and Elspeth wasn't sure if she was ready for that.

Murmuring the excuse that she had to call Mycroft, which she actually did, Elspeth put her tea down and ducked out of the kitchen. No one seemed to mind.

It was freezing cold outside and Elspeth's feet were bare and she was only wearing her pyjamas, but Elspeth didn't care as she stepped out into the front garden and sat in front of the door with her phone in her hand. Letting out a shaky breath, Elspeth ran her hands down her face and pinched the bridge of her nose, her eyes screwed shut. She'd ring Mycroft in a minute.

Elspeth finally pulled herself together, picking up her phone and dialling Mycroft's number with shaky fingers. He picked up after a few rings.

"Elspeth," he said. "What a pleasant surprise."

"You don't sound that surprised," Elspeth pointed out with a wry grin, trying not to laugh at her uncle's less than pleased tone. "Merry Christmas!"

Mycroft let out a long, suffering sigh. Elspeth could hear Christmas music in the background. "Yes," he said in a pained voice. "Merry Christmas. I don't know how you _stand_ this, Elspeth, it's only eleven and it feels like it's been Christmas all day."

"Are you at Nan and Granddad's?" Elspeth asked. That was the only logical explanation for Mycroft's displeasure.

"Yes, they somehow dragged me up to their cottage. They've been playing the same Christmas CD since last night." There was some shuffling as Mycroft shifted in his seat. He let out another heavy sigh. "I don't understand why you enjoy this, Elspeth, I really don't." Elspeth laughed. "How's Ireland, then?"

"Amazing. Beautiful. Spectacular. I went to Midnight Mass yesterday, it was great."

"You're not religious," Mycroft pointed out dryly.

Elspeth smiled to herself, leaning against the porch and wrapping an arm around herself. "I'm not," she agreed softly. "But it was really lovely, Mycroft. I've never been to anything like that." Mycroft made a small noise under his breath, indicating he was less than impressed by Elspeth's sentiment, and Elspeth grinned. She'd missed Mycroft's derisive manner. "I'll let you get on with Christmas – tell Nan and Granddad I said hi and I love them, won't you?"

"Of course."

"And, I – uh . . ." Elspeth hesitated. "Love you too, Mycroft. You're a great uncle and . . . I don't say it enough."

"Holidays always did make you sentimental," Mycroft said with a touch of fondness in his voice, making Elspeth smile again. That was almost as good as _I love you too, Elspeth, you're a wonderful niece_. They said their goodbyes and Mycroft ended the call, presumably to suffer more Christmas carols and fussing from his mother; Elspeth felt a tinge of sadness when she realised she could've been there as well. With her family. But she didn't dwell on it for long, tapping out another number and pressing the 'call' button.

"Hello?"

"Hey, John," Elspeth said brightly, grinning when she heard his voice. "Merry Christmas!"

John laughed – actually _laughed_. "Merry Christmas," he echoed. "Thanks for the jumper. I love it."

"Thought you would." There was a lot of noise and commotion in the background, and Elspeth was certain that she heard Lestrade's voice call out. "Are you at Lestrade's already? It's a bit early, isn't it?"

"Yeah, well, better than staying at home all morning." There was a touch of sadness in John's voice and Elspeth bit her lip. "It's weird, isn't it? This time last year we were all at home and now . . ." he stopped talking for a few seconds, but he didn't have explain himself; Elspeth knew exactly what he meant. Last year everyone had gathered in 221B for an evening party, drinking and eating and having a nice time until it became a danger night for Sherlock, and now Sherlock was gone and John was in London and Elspeth was in Ireland. It was sad. "How's Ireland, anyway? Is it nice?"

"It's beautiful," Elspeth whispered, blinking back the tears in her eyes. Her voice cracked a little. "I just spoke to Mycroft and he's with my grandparents."

"Oh."

"Yeah." A few tears spilled over and Elspeth didn't know why. "Aw jeez, I'm crying now."

"Don't, or you'll set me off," John warned. Elspeth laughed and sobbed at the same time, ducking her head as more tears ran down her cheeks and hit her knees. "Don't feel bad or guilty for getting out of London. I would've done the same if I could."

"I know. I just . . . I _miss_ him."

Elspeth didn't have to explain who she meant. John sighed.

"I miss him too."

Hearing John's name being called in the background, Elspeth said, "I'll let you get on with Christmas. Say hi to Lestrade for me."

"I will. Merry Christmas, Ellie."

"Merry Christmas, John," Elspeth said softly. She ended the call, gazed at her phone for a long time, then realised there was one last person she wanted to speak to. And it was a stupid idea but somehow Elspeth couldn't stop herself from ringing the number anyway, knowing that he wouldn't answer but she would hear his voice anyway because it would go to voicemail.

"This is Sherlock Holmes," her father's voice said on the other end of the phone. Even more tears sprung to Elspeth's eyes and she didn't bother wiping them away, clutching the phone tighter as she listened to Sherlock's deep voice. It was just the way she remembered and it made her feel sick to hear it after so long, but it was the only thing Elspeth had left, and no matter how pathetic it was, she couldn't bring herself to hang up. "Leave your name, number, and details after the beep. I'll get back to you if it's important enough."

"Hi Dad," Elspeth whispered without thinking. "You're never going to hear this but . . . I don't know what to say," she admitted with a small laugh. "I miss you. Still. It's the first Christmas I'm spending without you since I was a little kid and . . . erm – I know that you're never coming back but I – uh, I wished that you would because you promised you'd never leave me, remember? So . . . so do this one thing for me, won't you? I know I've asked for this before but I really want it. I really want you to stop being dead." Elspeth paused and took in a deep breath. "I love you."

Lowering the phone, Elspeth looked up as the front door opened and reluctantly met Moriarty's eyes. She looked away first.

"Hey," he said, sitting down next to her. "It's Christmas. You're not meant to cry."

"I know, I know. It's just . . . _hard_." Elspeth wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. "I left a voicemail on my Dad's phone even though I know he'll never hear it. Does that make me nuts?"

Moriarty grimaced. "Yeah, kinda."

"Hey," Elspeth protested with a wobbly laugh that sounded more like a sob. "It just felt like the right thing to do." She sighed. "Christmas day and I'm sitting outside, crying like a baby. Remind me again why you put up with me."

"I don't know," Moriarty teased, reaching out to tuck Elspeth's hair behind her ear. "I just can't seem to get rid of you."

Elspeth laughed and looked down at her bare, dirty feet for a few seconds. When she looked back up, she noticed that Moriarty's attention had been otherwise captured and followed his line of sight with a small frown. Her eyes widened when she realised there was a small bit of mistletoe hanging above the front door, which she hadn't noticed before. Her eyes met Moriarty's and he grinned back at her, the gleam in his eyes making her laugh again.

"You did that on purpose," she accused. Moriarty's eyes widened, comically large.

"No I didn't!" Moriarty protested. Elspeth raised her eyebrows, clearly not convinced, and he smirked as he bumped his shoulder against hers. "You know the rules though. You have to kiss under the mistletoe." Elspeth wondered if Moriarty had somehow planned it, giving him a suspicious look, but she knew it was all in good fun and he was teasing her.

None of that stopped Elspeth, however, from leaning in and pressing her lips to his.

It was very unlike the first kiss, which had been heated and passionate and driven by all their pent up emotions. Moriarty's lips were gentle against hers, still at first but moving when she pressed herself closer to him, and his hand lifted to cradle her cheek. Elspeth's hands reached up to hold the front of Moriarty's shirt, her fingers curling into the fabric and brushing against the exposed skin of his collarbone, and she realised that when she kissed him like this, she didn't want to stop kissing him. It was warm and soft and _nice_ – it was so unlike the sloppy, messy kisses she'd had with ex-boyfriends and far nicer than the silly, drunken exchanges that Elspeth had experienced in the past. Moriarty knew what he was doing; he made her feel special.

The kiss ended with them both pulling away, breathless and – in Elspeth's case – a little giddy. She let go of his shirt and slowly lifted her gaze to meet his, her heart pounding under the intense look in his dark eyes.

Unable to think of anything else to say, Elspeth swallowed past the lump in her throat and whispered, "Merry Christmas, Jim."

Moriarty gazed at her for a long time without blinking, and when he finally spoke, it was in that low voice of his that sent shivers down Elspeth's spine.

"Merry Christmas, Ellie."

* * *

><p><em>Thank you Capricornwholovesbooks, Adrillian1497, tardislover1, hello-totoro-ninja, Lylark, Guest, That-Crazy-Psycho, Deductions-of-Sherlolly, Guest, and Guest for reviewing! <em>

_Claddagh rings are a real thing! I did a lot of research into them and I have one myself because I have Irish relatives; they're super pretty and really meaningful if you understand the significance. _

_Please let me know what you think! I love hearing from you! _


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